


Divergent Paths: Glimpses of the Future

by puddleofgoo



Series: Divergent Paths [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Stargate Atlantis Big Bang Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 126,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddleofgoo/pseuds/puddleofgoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney McKay, science genius and multi-billionaire, is on the verge of new technology and an entirely new understanding of the universe which will net him not only a Nobel, but worldwide acclaim—if only he can manage to stay alive. John Sheppard is a charter pilot in a dead-end job in a dead-end company, but when the hiring gods look favorably on him he finds himself set for life as a personal pilot for Billionaire McKay. What he wasn’t planning on was that his primary job would end up to be trying to keep his employer alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art for Puddleofgoo's Divergent Paths: Glimpses of the Future](https://archiveofourown.org/works/250659) by [taibhrigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taibhrigh/pseuds/taibhrigh). 
  * Inspired by [Divergent Paths: Glimpses of the Future (McKay and his Pilot)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/250655) by [Antares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/pseuds/Antares). 



> This was fun new universe for me to write it. Much thanks goes to my two betas Chaps 1870 and Fenchurch. If you find any mistakes it's because I didn't listen to them.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
[ ](../../../250659)   
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[ ](../../../250655)   
  
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Art by [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/taibhrigh/profile)[**taibhrigh**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/taibhrigh/) |  Art by [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/profile)[**Antares**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/)  
  
**Summer 2003**

 

Doctor Rodney McKay hated meetings, despised conference calls, and truly detested commercial travel of any kind.

But as one of the leading scientists in the world—and several Nobel prizes and various degrees to back up his claim—he was more often than not required to travel internationally to various conferences and meetings. He'd been to every continent—just because he had to be able to brag about it—and it was expected for a man of his position.

Between the award money, the various companies he ran, and contracts he received through those companies, he could do damn well whatever he pleased and go wherever he wanted.

But his assistant kept scheduling him for meetings and then people expected him to show up.

Take right now, for instance. He was supposed to be in Madrid for a conference, then consulting in a lab in Chicago two days later.

Thankfully he was in Europe already or else the trip back and forth between North America and Europe in such a short time would kill him. It seemed like all he did nowadays was speak or sit in meetings. He missed the time he used to have to spend in the lab.

Not helping was the woman on the phone insisting she couldn't have the plane ready to go from Chicago back to his home base on the Isle of Man—or Mann as the locals called it, himself included—when he wanted to leave. "I'm sorry, Doctor McKay, but we just can't have a pilot ready to go that quickly. I'll need a few days after your arrival for a new pilot to arrive to take you to your next destination."

"That's unacceptable. The solution is simple. Hire another pilot so he'll be ready when I need to leave for Chicago."

"I'm afraid we can't do that, sir. Our pilots are vetted through a rigorous process, and then undergo a company training course before we allow them to fly with clients. I can have a plane ready for you to leave Chicago on the 15th, but that as soon as I can manage it."

"That's not acceptable."

"That's the best I can do, sir. I've even contacted some of our competitors to see if they had a free pilot and plane for the 12th, but unfortunately, no one has anything until the 15th."

"I'm not going to…cool my heels in another country just because your company is too stupid to have pilots at my disposal. I want to talk to your manager now."

"He's already gone for the day, but I can have him call you back tomorrow."

"I'm on a plane to Spain tomorrow, you moron! You booked the flight!"

"I'm so sorry, sir. I'll go ahead and book your return flight for the 15th, and I'll do my best to try and get you out sooner."

"No. I don't want you to book my flight for the 15th. I need a return flight on the 12th and I'm not going to take no for an answer. I have enough money to buy your stupid company!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's the best I can do."

"You're not sorry, you're incompetent!" Rodney stormed around the office in his house. "I want your supervisor's cell phone number and I don't want to hear that you don't have it."

"I'm afraid I can't give that number out, sir. It's company policy not to divulge private information to our clients. I'm sure you can understand that."

"Then put me on hold and transfer me to his phone."

"I can't do that either, sir. Please understand, there are simply no pilots to fly you out of Chicago until the 15th."

"No. I don't understand. You're a private airline. It's your job to have pilots available whenever I have the whim to travel. I pay you a rather large sum of money every year. You will find me a pilot."

"We only have a limited number of pilots who work for us, Doctor McKay. We only hire the best, but unfortunately that means occasionally we run into small snags like this one. Because of this inconvenience, we will knock 50 percent off your rate for this entire trip."

"No. The trips will be free and if you don't find me a pilot by the 12th I'll be pulling all of business from your company—along with the yearly retainer. Can you comprehend what I'm saying?"

She gave a huff, the first time she had been anything but the fake patient she had been putting on. "Doctor McKay, I realize you're a very important person, and if having this trip comped will help, then I'll do that. But while we are a private airline, we are still a company that must cater to the needs of several clients. We aren't your personal airline, and I'm afraid we can't produce a pilot out of thin air for you on demand."

"Free trip and if you don't find me a pilot by the 12th, I'll pull all my business. You have a few days to come up with one. I expect an email confirmation within the next five minutes." He pushed the off button and stopped himself before hurling his phone against the wall.

"Stupid morons!"

His secretary, one of the parade of young blonde women the agency he used was constantly bringing in, was hovering in the doorway. "Would you like me to look into alternative methods out of Chicago?"

"Since you're obviously eavesdropping instead of working, you know what the issue is. Pretend that you have a brain and find something else," he said, throwing himself into his desk chair. He paid millions to have airplanes and pilots at his disposal…

The secretary hurried out, and he sat up. Seriously. He was paying this company millions of dollars, and not only were they not available when he wanted them to be, but he often found items with citrus in them on board. Why didn't he just buy his own god damned plane and hire a full-time pilot? Then he could set it up exactly the way he wanted, and it would always be ready when he was.

He leaned back in his chair and huffed. Like he really wanted to do exhaustive background checks on pilots in his spare time. His phone picked that moment to ring, the caller ID showing a 719 area code—Colorado Springs. It had to be Zelenka. He picked it up.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Spain?"

"Aren't you?" Zelenka huffed. "I thought you were giving a talk there tomorrow."

"I'm on Manx as you well know. You called me here. I'll fly out in the morning—if I have a pilot."

"What is wrong with your pilot?"

"Supposedly the company I'm using doesn't have a pilot to fly me home from Chicago on the 12th. Can you believe that? They're flying me there in the first place. They should have a pilot available."

"So hire your own. I must admit, working for the US Military means easy access to pilots whenever I want them. Find a former Air Force officer and make him obscene offer to fly for you full time. They even take orders very well. Problem solved."

Rodney snorted. "I still can't believe you signed that non-disclosure. You could be making millions. Maybe not as much as me, but still, you'd be up there."

"Ah, but I am happy and have access to things you cannot imagine. It is why I am calling. We could use your help—you should sign agreement and join me. You already have millions, you do not need more."

"Of course I need more. If I'm going to hire a pilot and buy a plane I'm going to incur an entirely insane business expense. And besides, working for the military…" Rodney shook his head. "You really chose the wrong path, Radek. You could have been a name. You haven't published in years. You're out of the game."

"Believe me, the military is not what you think it is, and what we are doing here… What can I say to convince you it is more amazing than any frivolous recognition by Nobel committee?"

"Frivolous!" Rodney sat up, scowling. "It is not frivolous. It's well deserved."

"It is a pat on the back for something you would do anyway. And you could be doing more if you joined us. You are wasted doing the research you focus on right now."

"I am not wasted. I'm working on ten projects right now—bigger and better than you could even dream up."

"Ah, that is where you are wrong. It is what I am doing that would, as you say, blow your mind." Radek sighed. "I will see you tomorrow in Madrid, yes? Perhaps I can convince you in person."

"Fat chance of that happening. Why did you call me? Just to harass me?"

"It is in my contract. I must try to recruit you a set number of times per year and ensure you do not forget the offer is on the table."

"You saw me two weeks ago and you harassed me then," Rodney said, rolling his eyes. "You obviously had another reason to call."

Radek hesitated slightly, but Rodney caught it. "You have caught the attention of more than just the agency I work for. Please, if another person approaches you to sign contract with government, no matter how lucrative, do not sign without calling me first, yes? These men, they are bad, and I do not wish to see you hurt."

Rodney snorted. "Right. Like I'd sign a contract with another government. I've said no to five already. I'm not about to change my mind. The work in the private sector is far more lucrative."

"Money is not everything, Rodney."

"That's what people who don't have any say."

Radek huffed. "I will see you tomorrow. Do not be late. I look forward to ripping apart presenters theories with you."

"Safe travels. You'll need all the help you can get."

Radek huffed again before wishing Rodney a good night and hanging up.

Rodney knew he should go to bed, but he was wired from that damn call and way too wound up to even consider trying to go to sleep. He had an early departure, but it was an easy ride down to Madrid and he could sleep on the plane.

He decided to start researching pilots. If he could find one around Chicago, he could buy a plane there and have both pilot and plane waiting for him when he arrived, and ready to go when he wanted to leave.

Although, he wanted a good plane. Not some kind of cheap crap. The Gulfstreams were nice. Hmm. Maybe he could just customize one and have it waiting for him. He might even be able to wrangle a job or two in Chicago if he thought about it.

He nodded, deciding that was the way to go. If he was going to buy himself a plane, it was going to be exactly what he wanted. Including high-speed internet access, a bar stocked with all his favorites, and as many comfortable surfaces as he could pack in. Maybe a bedroom in the back.

Wide-screen television was a must. Extra comfortable chairs.

Rodney opened a new document on his laptop and started making a list to forward along with his specifications. High-tech everything.

It didn't take him long to come up with a very detailed list—even down to makes and models of the items he wanted. Go big or go home, that was always his model. He had money to burn and he might as well be comfortable.

He found a firm in Chicago that could fill his order, and get it done on a rush—for a fee of course—so with that done, he turned his attention to figuring out who he was going to get to fly it.

Commercial pilots? Military pilots?

He wrote a quick algorithm to search through both company records and places where pilots advertised their services. He had as detailed a list of qualifications for the pilot as he had for the plane.

He stretched and yawned. The search program would spit out results by the morning and he could look them over in the plane and make arrangements to meet them and interview them in Madrid or Chicago.

He liked having plans and this was a good one.

 

***

 

John Sheppard sighed as he dropped onto his admittedly threadbare and ugly couch. He had gotten it from a thrift store, and it had seen better days, but since he was only ever in the apartment maybe two days a week, it wasn’t worth it to invest.

God, he was tired. After getting booted out of the Air Force for daring to disobey orders and try to go back for men stranded behind enemy lines, he had gone into the private sector.

The company he flew for now was a serious pain in the ass. They treated their pilots like shit, and he was starting to get tired of being a resource that could be discarded at any time. It was worse than the rules of the fucking US military, and that was saying something.

But it was a job, and it was flying. So, he put up with the bad attitudes and last-minute schedule changes, sometimes in mid-air, and the regular condescension from all the ground crew. The stupidest though, by far, was the policy that if you were caught sleeping, even if it was on the ground, plane off, trying to rest between flights, it was grounds for immediate termination. So they had a whole fleet of over-tired pilots out there—it was a mistake waiting to happen.

He wondered what they would do if all their pilots just walked out, but they paid more than anyone else, so it was unlikely to happen.

Hell, it was why he stayed.

Stretching out on the couch and avoiding the one spring that was a little too pointy for its own good, he flipped on the television to a stupid sci-fi show and closed his eyes. He didn’t have another charter for two days—a minor miracle—and he planned to spend the bulk of it catching up on sleep.

He let his eyes wander around the apartment, drinking his fill of the place he called his own. It wasn't much, but it was his. It was then that he also spotted the blinking light on his answering machine.

Damn it. He debated not checking it, since no one but the charter ever called him. But his damn sense of responsibility wouldn't let him relax now that he had seen it, so he pushed himself up and wandered over to listen to the message, praying it wasn't a call to come back to work.

"Good morning, my name is Audra Alexander and I'm calling on behalf of McKay Enterprises. We'd like to set up an appointment with you to interview for a new position we're hiring for in the next week. Please call me back as soon as you get this message. Time does not matter."

She left her number, repeated her name and affiliation, and hung up.

He blinked and played it back again. Who the hell was McKay Enterprises, and why were they calling him out of the blue for a position? He didn't even have a resume out anywhere. He debated ignoring it, but curiosity got the better of him, and he picked up the phone, dialing the number she had left.

"Good evening, Mister Sheppard. This is Audra, how can I be of assistance?"

"Okay, how do you know my name, how did you get this number, and who the hell are you?" He supposed he could be more polite, but having her answer the phone and call him by name sort of creeped him out.

"Caller ID, Mister Sheppard. I was hoping you would return my call. Are you available on the 11th for an interview?"

Right. Caller ID. He sighed. He needed to stop being so paranoid all the time. Apparently you could take the boy out of Special Ops… "For what position? I'm not actually looking for a new job, so I'm not sure why you're calling me."

"McKay Enterprises is looking to hire a full-time pilot and your name was one of several which popped to the top during our searches. Or records indicate you are ex-military and are currently working for a charter company. Has that changed?"

"No, that hasn't changed, but what records? How did you get that information?"

"Most of this information is available in various databases, Mister Sheppard. We have not accessed any information that is proprietary or confidential." Audra was damn near unflappable. "Would you be interested in setting up an interview to see if you were a fit?"

He opened his mouth and closed it again. This was weird, and he was tempted to say no. But his damn curiosity got the better of him again. Hell, he was off, what else was he going to do tomorrow? "Where and what time?"

"McKay Enterprises has a suite at the Fairmont Chicago. Would two in the afternoon work with your schedule?"

"Sure, why not. I'll be there."

"That is excellent news, Mister Sheppard. Please ask for the McKay Enterprise suite at the main desk. Someone will bring you there."

"Great. Thanks." He hung up, shaking his head. Okay, seriously weird.

He went back to sit on the couch, his mind still spinning. Who was McKay Enterprises and why the hell did they want him?

Running a hand through his hair, he went and got his laptop out of his bag and fired it up. He did a Google search for McKay Enterprises.

His machine was ancient, but it finally spit out the results a few moments later. Lead by a Nobel winner. Involved in several large science projects. Several locations around the globe. Nearly a thousand employees.

Holy shit.

He pulled up a page from _Time_ magazine a few years back, listing some of the top minds of the decade. Rodney McKay, owner of McKay Enterprises, was on the list.

He spent the next few hours researching both the company and the man, and when he was done, he was even more confused. A company like this, with multiple billions of dollars, why were they calling a washed-up former AF pilot currently doing charter runs? He was a nobody. Why him? And who else had they called?

It made him nervous and he considered calling Audra back and cancelling. But, this could be a really cushy job. From what he could gather, McKay had meetings and conferences a few times a month. The rest of the time he was at one of his labs. This could be easy money.

With a sigh, John crashed back on the couch—he had never bothered to buy a bed—and stared at the ceiling. Well, he supposed tomorrow he find out what was going on.

So much for sleep, though.

He tossed and turned all night, debating the merits of going to this interview. It was a crap shoot, and if the charter found out, he was as good as fired.

But it wasn't as if the charter company was the only one he could work for. Hell, if he got desperate enough he could go crawling back to his father and his political minions.

When John finally crawled out of bed as dawn broke the horizon, he knew he was going to the interview. He would never be able to stop thinking about the what-ifs if he didn't. So he headed down to the local coffee shop to grab breakfast before getting ready to go downtown.

Aiden waved as he walked in the door. "Hiya, Shep. What'll it be?"

John plunked into his usual stool at the counter. "The largest, most caffeinated beverage you have. And one of those orange muffins."

"Triple-shot," Aiden Ford said with a smile. Aiden was a young twenty-something kid, whose grandmother actually owned the coffee shop. He ran most of the day-to-day stuff and was always upbeat and energetic. John had first thought Aiden drank twenty cups of coffee a day to get that hyper, but it was apparently normal for him. "Rough night?"

He accepted the cup and drank, letting the caffeine settle in before answering. "Weird night. I got a call out of the blue from a corporate big shot looking to headhunt a pilot. I go in to interview this afternoon."

"That's great, Shep. I know how you hate that job of yours. And you said the Orange muffin, right?"

"Yeah, orange." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's just weird. I spent the night researching this company, and they could, literally, hire pretty much anyone in the world they wanted. Why did they call me?"

"Because they know you're a great guy," Aiden said with a smile as he moved to the glass cabinet. "And I'll be honest with you, the Orange muffins didn't come out that good today. Blueberry and bran are much better."

"Blueberry then. Thanks." John gave him a smile. "And while I might be a great guy, they haven't met me yet. My record includes getting discharged from the Air Force for disobeying orders, remember. It's just… weird."

Aiden waved him off. "There was good reason, they'll understand that. Better to do the right thing, than not." A plate with a blueberry muffin slid in front of him. "Butter?"

"Nah, I'll eat it like this." John savored his muffin. Whoever did their baking was killer. "So what's new here? Anything interesting happen while I've been away?"

"Everything's quiet. Grandma's last check-up was good. Still healthy as a horse."

"She's going to outlive all of us."

Aiden chuckled. "Probably. That's what my aunt says, too." The jingle of the opening door pulled Aiden's attention away and to the incoming customers. "Need anything else?"

"Nope, thanks." John smiled and watched the young man work for a while. The espresso and muffin had gone a long way toward making him feel more optimistic about this interview, so he headed back to his apartment to get a shower and find something to wear that would strike the right tone.

A dark suit would probably be best, even if it reminded him of his dress blues and his current pilot uniform. He shrugged and dug into his closet. He had some good suits in there thanks to his father's insistence years ago and he hadn't changed much since he'd bought them.

Tugging them on, and taming his hair into some semblance of order, he hopped on his motorcycle and headed for downtown.

The valet looked at him funny when he pulled up at the Fairmont, but indicated a place where he could park his bike. John took his helmet in with him.

He headed for the desk and caught the eye of one of the receptionists. "Hi. I have an appointment with McKay Enterprises, and I was told to ask here for the suite number."

"Ah, yes sir," Her name tag said Sandra. "Please have a seat and Justin will be with you shortly. Your name?"

"John Sheppard." He smiled at her and sat down, wondering who the hell Justin was.

"Very good, Mister Sheppard. It will be a few minutes."

He shrugged, willing to wait. He didn't have anything else to do. So he amused himself by trying to figure out who else sitting around the lobby might be other pilots.

The hotel reminded him of the places his father used for cocktail parties and networking receptions. It was high-end and prissy.

He hated places like this. It reminded him too much of everything he had deliberately turned his back on years ago. But it did make him wonder how his brother was doing.

Huh. He hadn't thought about Dave in years.

He should probably at least try to send him an email, see how he was doing. Just because John didn't speak to their father, he shouldn't cut his brother off, too. He made a mental note to do that when he got home.

A young man with light brown hair and a dark suit hovered next to him. "Mister Sheppard?"

John gave him a lazy smile. "You must be Justin. Are they ready for me?"

Justin flashed a ready, if fake, smile. "Doctor McKay is finishing up his last appointment and asked for me to bring you up. Are you ready, sir?"

"Sure." John followed the other man to the elevators, and wondered again what the hell he was doing. Odds were good this McKay person was just like his father. He'd end up playing the same games he had left home to avoid, and wasn't that stupid? Maybe he should just turn around and go home.

Justin put in a keycard and hit the button for the penthouse suite.

Well, too late now. John figured he would go in, piss the guy off and go home. It would be entertaining, if nothing else.

As soon as the doors opened on the penthouse level, John could hear someone yelling. "…don't know why you continue to beat your head against a brick wall. I said no ten times already. Sending you along is not going to change my mind. I know what they're trying to do, and let me tell you, Blondie, it's not going to work."

John raised an eyebrow as he followed the voice. He imagined the assistant yelling was probably going to get an earful from this Mr. McKay person later for being unprofessional while interviewees were around.

"McKay, it's not what you think. We used to be friends."

"Used to be is the right phrase. I used to trust you, but not now."

Whoa. It was McKay yelling? Shit. Justin had disappeared to who knew where, so John eased around the corner to shamelessly eavesdrop. He wanted to see who the players were, and wondered what they were arguing about.

He spotted the blonde first—and an Air Force Major from the looks of it. She was standing in front of a well-appointed desk. "Come on, McKay. It was just a misunderstanding."

He leaned against the door frame and smirked. From the looks of the man behind the desk, she wasn't going to get anywhere. After the way the AF had treated him, he had to admit to a certain sadistic enjoyment at seeing an officer get told off.

"Misunderstanding my ass! You tried to steal my work and then convince me to sign away my rights! And we were married at the time. You are a conniving, stealing bitch and that hasn't changed."

Both of John's eyebrows went up. Wow, this was even better than he thought. He was pretty sure at this point he wasn't going to get any job, but the entertainment value alone was worth the trip.

"Rodney, that's not what happened!"

"No," McKay said waving his hand to cut her off. "You don't have the right anymore for that." McKay glanced over and his eyes widened when he spotted John. "And my two o'clock appointment is here so you're out of time. Now get out of my office."

John smirked again at the way Blondie whirled around to see him. He waved. He couldn't help it, he hadn't had this much fun in a while.

Her face was flushed and she turned back to McKay. "This isn't over."

"Oh yes it is. Get out and don't come back."

"You're infringing on my appointment time, Ma'am." John pushed off the wall and sauntered over, making sure to be as insolent with his body language as years of training mocking officers to a point just before they could call him on could provide.

McKay pointed to the door, his eyes on the blonde. "Out. Or do I have to call security?"

"This isn't the end of this, McKay." She stormed out, leaving John silently laughing.

McKay was an average-sized man with thinning brown hair and piercing blue eyes. The pictures on the internet didn't do him justice, at all. There was just something about the energy he pushed into a room that made him so interesting. "Sheppard, I presume. Unless the idiot assistant brought up the wrong person again."

John smirked again and dropped into a seat without asking. "Yes, John Sheppard, and you must be the infamous McKay."

"Infamous, eh?" McKay snorted, sitting down at the desk. "Good to know the internet rumors are as alive as they ever were."

"So why exactly am I here and how did you find me? Your assistant wasn't particularly forthcoming with information."

McKay leaned back in his chair. "Who did you talk to?"

"Audra was her name. She just told me that my name had come up when you had done a search through public records, but she didn't tell me what you're looking for, what criteria were used, what the job is… You know, the actual details."

"Ah yes. Audra isn't exactly incompetent. She likes to eavesdrop and she's not bad to look it."

"And she's as good at you are at avoiding questions." John gave him a look. "So you want to tell me why I'm here?"

"I'm looking for a pilot. You're a pilot." McKay shrugged. "Seemed to be an easy link to make."

"I'm one of thousands of pilots, and you're a multi-millionaire who could hire anyone he wants." John decided to be blunt. "If you did a records search, you know I'm former Air Force, and given what I just saw, you aren't really on good terms with that particular agency. Granted, I didn't leave on great terms either, but I'm still a former soldier flying charter planes for a living. Why me, how many others are you interviewing, and what kind of flying will the job entail?"

"The number of pilots I'm interviewing is none of your business," McKay started, his tone even and not even a little pissed off. "But if you want to know, you're the third today. I don't care what you did to get yourself kicked out, but your record was good and you can fly anything."

McKay narrowed his eyes. "You are currently single, working in a dead-end job that you hate, have a single-room apartment that is probably no better than a cardboard box on the street. I'm can offer full medical, free room and board, free food, four weeks of vacation, free use of any of my houses around the world, and two million dollars a year in salary. I need you to be discreet and reliable. No boozing and if you fuck someone, keep it quiet."

John blinked. Holy. Fucking Shit. "You threw that two million dollars a year thing at me to keep me from asking how the hell you knew the rest of it, didn't you?" He paused. "What kind of planes and would I be allowed to catch some sleep between flights?"

"It's simple. You fly when I need you to. You have down time between flights, but you have to be on call in case things change. I'm usually on the ground for at least 24 hours between flights."

John nodded, that was fine, as long as he could actually nap so he wasn't falling asleep at the controls. "Would I have a place to sleep on board for those times, and what kind of turn-around would I get between trips—in other words, do I always need to be where you are in case you want to go somewhere, or do I come home and catch a flight to you when you're ready to go?"

"Yes, you would need to stay with me on short trips. My plane would be your responsibility. On longer trips we can work out something if you wanted to go somewhere."

"I meant more between trips. I was wondering how much warning I would get. But speaking of that, how many trips per year, and what kind of ground crew would I have to handle maintenance, refueling, etc."

"I always fly into the closest airports and use private hangers. They have ground crew there who you would need to interface with. I usually also have one flight attendant handling supplies."

John nodded, that was fine. "All right, so when will you make a decision and when will I start?"

"I didn't say you were hired."

John shrugged. "No, but I'd like to have some idea of when I'll know, and then when I'd start."

"As soon as I know." McKay paused, tilting his head to the side as he studied John. It was a little unnerving, actually, to have those sharp, blue eyes staring at him. "Why should I hire you—apart from the more than adequate benefits package that you want?"

John shrugged. "Honestly, there are probably a lot of qualified people you're looking at, if I understand this whole thing right. And all of them will probably be pretty awed and willing to kowtow to you to earn your favor. I don't give a shit if you like me or not, but I am the best pilot you'll find. Period."

McKay's mouth tilted up in a half smile. "Best pilot, eh?"

"Hands down. There isn't an aircraft created I can't fly. They're probably all qualified to fly a few different types, but I've trained on everything from jets to helicopters, and I haven't found an aircraft yet I couldn't fly within minutes of sitting down in the cockpit."

"Gay or straight?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I’m a nosey bastard and I want to know."

John had to grin, the man was amusing. He still didn't think he'd get the job because millionaires might be amused by bluntness, and might even indulge in it themselves, but he hadn't met one yet who would actually tolerate it in an underling. Still, this was fun. "Gay, then, but single and I don't sleep around because I'm sort of old fashioned that I want to date the men I fuck."

McKay flashed him a surprised smile before sobering again. "I wasn't sure you'd answer that but I appreciate your honestly. What's your connection with Patrick Sheppard?"

It was sudden enough that John was sure some of his surprise showed before he could hide it. "He's my father, but we haven't spoken in about ten years, and I was disowned around the same time. And since I know you'll ask, it was over my decision to join the military."

"He disagreed?"

"Strongly."

"I can't say that I'm all that enamored by the military, as you saw earlier. I was married to one of them for a time. However, that being said, their money is just as good as anyone else's and they pay on time. Would you have issues dealing with the military?"

He shrugged. "Not particularly. Since you know who my father is, you probably have a good idea how I was raised. I know when to keep my mouth shut, and as your pilot, odds are good I wouldn't see all that many of the people you deal with anyway."

"You'd be surprised. I have no patience for most of them."

John chuckled. "Then as long as you don't actually want me to be polite to the fucker who got me tossed out for disobeying his orders to leave men behind to die, I think I can behave myself if you can."

"I doubt you'd ever meet him in my employ."

"Then you won't have to worry about it. I loved my job, McKay. I was protecting people back home who didn't ever need to see the horrors of war. I went so they didn't have to, and I was damn good at it. I don't have any problems with the military, only with a single man who used the system at my expense to hide his own incompetence."

"And politicians? Issues with them?"

"Not particularly. Although I should warn you while I've been completely out of the circle since my father and I parted ways, I can't guarantee some people won't recognize me if they see me."

McKay nodded. "Fair enough." He glanced over toward the door. "Justin, is my 2:30 here?"

John rose and smirked at McKay. He still didn't really think he'd get the job, but something about McKay made him want to find the man's buttons and press them. Too bad he was straight. "I'll be expecting your call. I have one more day off and then I'm needed back at work and will be hard to reach, and I'll need to give them some kind of warning. So the sooner you could let me know, the better."

McKay turned to John, a quizzical look on his face. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Well, I assume your 2:30 is someone else you're interviewing. It would be a little rude to sit in on someone else's attempts."

McKay waved his hand. "Sit." He turned back to Justin. "I'm finished with appointments today. Tell the rest of them to go away."

John was actually surprised by that. Enough that he followed the order before he thought about it. Justin just shrugged and presumably went out to cancel appointments.

"Your passport is up to date?"

"Yes. And does this mean I'm hired?"

"I'm considering it."

John snorted. "Consider faster. Because I wasn't kidding that I'll need to notify the charter company—who will be pissed at not getting two weeks notice—and I'll also need to make arrangements for my apartment since I get the feeling my schedule will be a bit more erratic working for you." He paused. "And I need to see if Aiden will ship muffins and espresso beans to wherever we'll be going."

"Before I make any decision," McKay said, leaning forward and pulling out a piece of paper. He started scribbling on it. "I want you to go here and look over the plane. I want you to come back here and tell me what you think of it—good, bad, whatever." He handed John the paper.

John took it, glancing at the address. It was a facility nearby that built custom jobs. "Good. I was going to add looking over the plane to my list of things I'd need time for before flying anywhere if hired, but this works too. Will they be expecting me?"

"I'll let them know. The Gulfstream G550 is berthed under McKay Enterprises."

John was one of those pilots who got a little hard over nice planes. This was a nice plane. And he might get to fly one. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. "Then I'll head over there now. Do you want me to come back here, or is there a number I should call?"

"Come back here. I hate that stupid phone."

John grinned. "All right. It will probably take me a few hours, since I'll want to go over her completely. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Justin will be expecting you."

Nodding, John headed out, head spinning a little. He found Justin waiting for him at the door.

"Sir," Justin said, walking with him to the elevator. "Do you require a car?"

"Nah, I have my bike here. I'll be back in a few hours. Just make sure someone there will let me in and give me access to all the systems."

"The private hangers have twenty-four hour security, sir."

"Which is why I'd rather not get arrested for trying to get in."

"They know to expect you."

Nodding, John headed out. It didn't take him all that long to drive over to the hangars, and as he pulled up, he spotted someone who looked like they were waiting. He got off his bike and headed over. "I'm John Sheppard, here to inspect the McKay Enterprises plane."

"You are John Sheppard?"

"Yes." John held out a hand.

The man shook it. "Name's Andrews. McKay's plane got here earlier this morning, direct from the factory. He's sent two other over already to inspect the plane. I assured him it's fine."

John laughed. "He seems like that type. He's trying to hire a pilot to fly it. My guess is they were some of the other candidates. I know I am, and frankly I'm glad he's letting me check it out before I accept anything."

"Hire pilots? Doesn't he have one already?"

"No. He apparently bought the plane first." John grinned as they started for the hangar. "I guess you can't fault his priorities. He can always fire the pilot and replace him, but the plane he keeps."

Andrews shrugged. "Like I told the other two. It's a new plane. There's nothing wrong with it."

"I'm sure, but as a pilot, I know I won't fly anything I haven't looked over first. If you're going to trust your life to it, you want to make sure you know it inside and out."

"It's brand new. It flew here just fine." Andrews sounded a bit exasperated.

"Doesn't matter. I've done the same with planes I've already flown a hundred times with no issues." As they walked inside, John paused to admire the plane. "She's beautiful."

"It better be. It's brand new and everything's top of the line."

John spent the next two hours exasperating Andrews as he poked his nose into literally every inch of the plane.

About halfway through, Andrews headed outside to wait.

That was fine. John was content to look over everything. He had made a point of learning enough about planes that he could tell if something was wrong. He might not be able to fix it himself, but he knew if it needed work.

This plane was like a wet dream. It had everything a pilot could want and then twice as much for the passenger. It was decadent. It was obscenely over-the-top in terms of luxuries. It was…God. John would give just about anything to fly her once.

He lingered in the cockpit, which was more state of the art than anything he had ever flown, and that included top secret test planes. He didn't want to leave.

But McKay wanted him to check the entire plane, not just the cockpit. That meant he had to go and look over everything—including the gaming system he spotted on the way in.

Grinning to himself, he walked into the passenger area and flipped on the television and the system. It had both a PlayStation 2 and an Xbox, and when he opened the cabinet, it was stocked with all the latest games. Sweet.

He spent the next forty-five minutes checking the television, games systems, stereo, and other various electronic gadgets. He even popped open the laptop and made sure the broadband worked.

When he was sure everything worked, he powered it all down and then went in and even tested the bathroom, making sure it flushed, before checking every light and switch in the plane, and then testing every outlet to make sure power was flowing correctly.

He headed outside next, doing a visual check before he looked closer at the landing gear, the wings, the various areas known for wear and tear.

He even opened up all the panels and checked the electrical work to make sure it all looked safe and flight-ready.

By the time he was finally happy with what he saw, nearly five hours had passed.

He wandered out, not surprised that Andrews was no where in sight. He headed out toward where he had parked his bike.

He headed out, the traffic much lighter now than it had been earlier that afternoon. A different valet was on shift when he pulled up at the hotel, but Justin was waiting for him just inside the door. "Mister Sheppard, welcome back."

"Thanks. I hope I'm not getting here too late."

"Doctor McKay just finished up a meeting. I believe he is expecting you. Come right this way."

John followed him back to the elevator. He was more relaxed now, having ditched the jacket before he had headed out to the hangar. That, and spending time with planes always made him feel mellow.

The suite was quiet when Justin finally ushered him out of the elevator. He lead John down the hall to the penthouse's living room where McKay was sipping some kind of drink—scotch by the looks of it.

"Well, well, look who came back. I didn't think you were going to."

John grinned and dropped onto the couch. "If you ask me to check a plane, I'm going to check it. All systems are in working order and top of the line. You can fly out tomorrow if you want with no problems."

"It took you five hours to figure that out?"

"It took me five hours to go through every system, turn it on, make sure it was working, then power it down. Then I checked all the hardware like the landing gear and wings, then I took all the electrical panels off and made sure the wiring looked correct." John shrugged. "It's a good plane with a lot of high-tech systems, so it took a while to go through them all. How long did the other pilots you sent there spend with it?"

McKay took a sip of his scotch. "An hour."

John snorted. "Then they didn't look at shit. It took me twice that just to check all the cockpit systems."

"And to play Halo."

"I had to make sure the television and game system worked." John grinned. "Hey, if I'm only getting one shot at that beauty, I wanted to make sure I did right by her. Even if whomever you hire didn't look her over properly, I'll know she's up to snuff and safe to fly."

"You'd fly it overseas tomorrow?"

"Assuming I could get my notice into the charter tonight and take care of everything here for my absence, yes."

"I can take care of that."

John raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you're hiring me?"

"Does that mean you want to work for me?"

John laughed. "To be honest, I'd work for free just for the chance to fly her. The rest of it is just icing on the cake."

McKay looked thoughtful. "So I offered too much in the way of benefits?"

"I'm not suggesting you lower the offer." John laughed. "That would be stupid. I could live off a year's salary working for you for the rest of my life, and never need to worry about money again. I have to say that's a strong lure along with getting to fly the beautiful girl you've got in the hangar."

"So," McKay took another sip of his scotch. "You're not going to negotiate?"

"Do you want me to? Because I could. It would be nice to have a furnished room that would be mine in all the locations you spend any amount of time in so I don't have to factor in additional travel time when you want to leave. And I could throw in that I want you to pick up the tab for my local coffee shop to ship me muffins and espresso beans. I've had coffee and muffins all over the world, and I swear they lace it with some kind of magic tasty dust or something."

"No to the coffee and muffins. I have my own chef who cooks everything that's in my house. No food is brought into my house unless the cook okays it. I'm highly allergic. And no to a room. You would be allowed to have a small one bedroom apartment."

"What are you allergic to? And can I have an apartment in all of the cities where you spend long stretches of time? I hate hotel rooms."

"Primarily citrus, but there are some other environmental allergies," McKay answered easily. "And yes. For each house, you would have either a guest house or an apartment nearby."

"Perfect."

"You're not going to argue about the money? I can afford more."

"You're offering two million a year, plus full benefits, right? Seriously, did people argue with you about that? Because it's about five times what 99 percent of pilots will make in their lifetime. I'm not greedy."

"The other ones did."

"Then not only were they incompetent for not checking over the plane, but they were greedy too. Hell, you can't even do a full preflight in an hour on a new plane."

"I want to leave tomorrow night. I plan to sleep on the plane on the way back to Mann. The details will be emailed to you tonight. You will need to file a flight plan and have the plane ready to go by midnight. Can you have it done?"

"Not a problem. As long as you give me about an hour—an hour and a half is preferable—warning before you want to leave somewhere, I can have everything ready to go when you board."

"That's not usually a problem. Most of my travel is planned out well in advance."

"That's fine. I just figured you would want to know. I can preflight in an hour if I push it, but I usually like to have a little more time to make sure I can go over all the critical systems before a flight."

"So," McKay took a last pull of his drink, leaning forward to put the now-empty glass on the coffee table. "Want a job?"

"Yes." John grinned. "You're going to take care of letting the charter know you're stealing me from them?"

McKay got up and headed for the sideboard. "No. I think you can take care of that. You seem capable enough."

"I can. And you shouldn't have any more to drink. You'll regret having a hangover on a long flight on a plane like that."

"I have more than twenty-four hours to deal with it," he said, pulling out a folder. He opened it, flipping through the pages before walking back to John and handing it over. "You need to read and sign everything in here before you walk out of here or else the offer is no longer on the table."

"All right." John sat back with the folder and started to read, pausing to sign wherever it required him to.

McKay did get another snort of scotch, drinking it slowly as he watched John go through the paperwork.

It took a little while to work through it. It was some standard employment stuff, but also a lot of documents of him promising not to divulge any sensitive information he might come across while employed for the company. When he was done, he handed the whole packet back over.

"No questions?"

John shrugged. "Not really. It's my job to make sure you get from point A to point B as efficiently and hassle free as possible. As long as you give me your schedule so I can file the flight plans, I'm good to go."

"No questions about the confidentiality clause?"

"I researched your company before I came to the interview. I pretty much assumed that if you hired me, you'd have one for me to sign, given the sort of work you do."

McKay nodded. "You'll also have to interface with my security staff at my headquarters on Mann. They take care of all of the threat assessments."

John couldn't help it, he snorted. He had yet to meet a security team that was worth shit. But then, that was his special ops days talking—he had to admit he didn't think very highly of anyone who took a few classes and called themselves "security".

McKay's eyebrow rose. "You have an issue with that?"

"No, sorry. Just being a security snob. I'll keep my prejudices to myself."

"Right. I also intend for you to tell me if you think something is wrong. I value my life." McKay sniffed and then rubbed his hand on his pants before extending it to John. "Welcome to McKay Enterprises."

John took it, impressed with the firm handshake. "I'm looking forward to it. If you don't mind, I'll head out now so I can start taking care of everything I need so I'll be ready to go tomorrow. I'll have the plane on the tarmac and prepped beginning at 11:30. If you could alert the hangar to expect me, I'd appreciate it."

"Your name will be on the list as the pilot. You have full access to my plane."

"Thank you." John rose. "I'll see you tomorrow night then. Your assistant obviously has my number if you need me before tomorrow night."

"I'll see you at midnight. Justin can show you out. He should be…hovering near the elevator."

John nodded and with a grin headed out. He had just scored the job of the century, and he was willing to bet it was going to be anything but boring.

 

***

 

Rodney McKay was bored. Bored, bored, bored. Whoever thought that holding a reception for the science community at an archeological museum needed their head examined. Instead of the planetarium—a much more logical choice—Rodney was surrounded by old dusty relics that should have stayed buried.

He walked around the main gallery, a drink in hand, as he tried not to roll his eyes and sigh. He had to be here because he was trying to court a big contract from a company based in Chicago, but it didn't make it any easier.

"You're Rodney McKay, right?"

Rodney tuned, eyeing an oddly bookish man with short brown hair and glasses. "Yes. Who are you?"

The man held out a hand. "Daniel Jackson."

Rodney scowled down at it. "And?"

"It's nice to meet you in person. Radek has told me a lot about you."

"You know Radek?"

The man—Jackson—nodded. "We work together. Well, I'm an archeologist and he's an astrophysicist, but we work in the same program. He's mentioned that he's trying to recruit you."

"The same program?" Rodney asked, his eyes narrowing. "Okay, he's obviously playing some kind of practical joke since those two disciplines have absolutely nothing to do with each other. So, as nice as it is for you to meet me, I think I have better things to do than talk to you."

"No no, I can see why you'd think that, but.. well, I can't go into it too much since it's all classified. But I do mostly translation work. I'm also a linguist."

"A linguist."

Daniel nodded. "I have a passion for languages. I speak more than 30, and I can read about 15 more."

Oh god. Another English major. "I'm sure that's all well and good, but I really do have other people to talk to tonight."

Daniel grinned. "Yes, but none of them were told to find and try to harass you into joining the program. And honestly, I'd like to get to know you. I knew you were married to Sam, and I always thought it was odd she never let any of us meet you."

Rodney's back tightened as soon as he heard that name. "You know Sam?"

Daniel nodded. "I do, and from what I've picked up from her, you didn't part amicably. To be honest, I always thought she was a bit odd when it came to you. She had never actively kept anyone away from someone she dated like she did with you. Why is that?"

"Sam Carter is one person I refuse to discuss with anyone, let alone a perfect stranger. I don't know what she's up to, but I want nothing to do with her or anyone she knows." He turned to go but Jackson's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Please. I know Sam, but I am a friend of Radek. We don't have to talk about her, and I really would like to get to know you. From what I've heard, you're probably one of the most talented scientists on the planet."

"Genius and the smartest man on the planet."

Daniel nodded. "So I'd like the chance to get to know you."

Rodney snorted. "As if you could even contemplate anything I'm working on."

Daniel flashed him a grin. "You'd be surprised, but probably not. All that science stuff is totally over my head."

"So I ask you again, why should I even talk with you when I should be talking to Alec Colson?"

"Because you've talked to him before, and odds are good he won't have anything new to say?"

"And you know the CEO of Colson Industries? I doubt that."

"Actually I do." Jackson shrugged. "I sort of consider him my stalker."

"Your stalker?" Rodney laughed, thinking how absurd that was. "He's an engineer. He wants nothing to do with you and your…soft sciences."

"It has to do with that classified stuff I can't tell you about again."

"Right," Rodney snorted again. "You'll next try to convince me of is that the pyramids were made by aliens."

Jackson got an odd look on his face. "Have you read my papers then?"

"No. Why would I?"

The other man shrugged. "That's what they're all about."

Rodney shifted away from the obviously insane man. "Look. I should get going. My plane's leaving in a few hours."

Daniel laughed. "If you ever accept the offer from us, it will all make a lot more sense."

Rodney waved him off as he spotted Colson across the room.

Colson headed their way, greeting Rodney, and then turning to Jackson. "Daniel, how have you been? It's been a while."

"Mister Colson," Rodney said, offering his hand. "I've wanted to talk to you about some special projects I could be helping your company with."

Colson smiled. "I've heard of you, Doctor McKay, but I'm afraid at the moment I'm not bringing on any outside contractors. I will keep you in mind if I start again, however."

"I think if we talk about a few specific items, I can change your mind."

Colson shook his head. "I'm sure you could, but I'm not at liberty to take on any outside contractors right now who aren't cleared by a specific agency because of the highly classified work we're doing."

"I am currently running twenty projects with various agencies—and all of them are classified. I don't see that as a problem."

"There is classified, Doctor McKay, and then there is Classified. I'm afraid that if you aren't on a very short list of scientists who have clearance for this program, at the moment I can't bring you on. If that changes though, you'll be the first to know. I would love the chance to work with you—I've been watching your work for some time now, and it is very impressive."

"Of course it's impressive. That's what several Nobel prizes and multiple degrees get you."

Colson laughed. "This is true. Good luck, Doctor McKay, and if you ever get added to my short list, I think we'll be doing business very quickly after that."

Rodney watched him walk away, fuming inside. That no-good, arrogant…

Jackson cleared his throat. "Radek is on that short list. The program Doctor Colson is referring to is the one he's been trying to recruit you in to."

"Just…shut up," Rodney hissed, storming away from the archeologist. He was sure everyone in the room had seen that…dismissal and any hope of him actually picking up any other jobs from the people here had flown out the window.

He decided that retreat was probably the best option and had his car come around early to take him to the airport. He'd rather sit in his plane doing nothing than stand here and be humiliated.

When he arrived at the airport, he found the plane pulled out in the "ready" area, with several hoses running into it, and people going on and off. He spotted the spiky hair that was probably attached to his pilot on the ground talking to someone.

Sheppard glanced over toward the limo as the driver opened Rodney's door and he climbed out.

He headed over. "Doctor McKay. I wasn't expecting you for another hour."

"And I wasn't expecting to strike out in my first pitch, so get used to disappointment. I have some work to do so I can keep myself busy. Just tell me when you're ready to leave."

Sheppard gave him a grin as they started walking toward the plane. "The cabin should be all set. Since you're here, if you want to check the food and beverages in stock to make sure they're what you want, I have time to have them changed out. I got a list from your secretary, but until I get to know your tastes better, I'd like to make sure you have everything you need. We're almost finished fueling up, so if you give me about a half hour to finish up and file a modified flight plan, we can be in the air."

Rodney waved his hand at Sheppard. "I’m sure it's fine."

"Just let me know. While we're on the ground, I can switch out anything you're not happy with."

Rodney climbed into the plane, the blonde flight attendant he'd hired for the trip already waiting inside.

"Can I get you a cup of coffee, Doctor McKay? Or something to eat?"

"Scotch on the rocks," he said, wandering deeper into the passenger section of the plane. Everything looked like it was in place. The big screen television was there with the gaming consoles and the stereo system. A classical playlist was already on in the background.

He hummed appreciatively and continued to walk back. The small bathroom was big enough for what he needed on a plane and the bed seemed fine as well. He leaned down, checking the mattress and was pleased to find that they'd actually listened to him about upgrading it.

When he returned to the main part of the cabin, his drink was waiting for him on the table, along with a small selection of some of his favorite nuts.

He dropped into one of the ultra-plush loungers and grabbed a handful of nuts. This was…nice. And even better than hiring a plane. This was his.

He could have it always stocked with exactly what he wanted, and, the best part, it came and went whenever he wanted to. He hated being beholden to someone else's schedule.

He should have done this long ago. It would have saved so much aggravation.

He relaxed for a while, when a light ring tone caught his attention. Then Sheppard's voice was on the intercom. "Doctor McKay, we're ready to go, and have clearance for takeoff."

The flight attendant quickly got busy closing the door and securing everything—and then making sure he was settled before letting Sheppard know everything was a go.

He felt the pressure changes, and about ten minutes later they were in the air. Ten minutes after that, the tone dinged again. "We're at our cruising altitude, Doctor McKay. Right now it's looking like it will be a pretty smooth flight, but if it seems like that will change, I'll let you know."

That was…really nice. He checked his watch and noted it was still early—before midnight even. He could get some work done or he could just rest and take in the whole…private jet experience.

He decided to see what kind of television programming he could get in this thing.

He turned on the entertainment system and after a moment's calibration with the satellite, he had television. He started flipping. There were channels on here from all over the world, in all kinds of languages… God. This thing got everything.

Rodney chuckled to himself and took a sip of his drink. This was…pretty awesome. 

 

***

 

As John powered down the plane and got it ready to go into storage until McKay needed it again, exhaustion finally hit. McKay had left about an hour ago for wherever he lived, and John was just about done.

The plane was in the hangar, old fuel drained out, and all the systems shut down. He grabbed his duffel bag and headed out to see if anyone could tell him where he could catch some sleep.

It had been a long twenty-four hours. The charter had been furious and threatened to blacklist him for leaving on such short notice. It was an unfortunate bridge to burn, but if he could hang on to this job for a year or two, he’d have enough to not have to worry about it.

Aiden Ford had been a godsend—as a congratulations present, he had filled up all three of John’s travel carafes with his super-strong coffee made from Aiden's perfect espresso beans. That had kept him alert and focused for the flight, but after nine hours in the cockpit and pretty much no sleep in three days, John was about to pass out, caffeine or no caffeine.

He wandered out of the hanger and looked around, squinting against the bright sunlight. He was going to have to figure out a way to get his bike onboard the plane in the cargo hold so he would have it on all these jaunts instead of having to stand around and wonder where the hell he was going to go.

There was a town car sitting off to the side and the driver's side door opened and a man stepped out. "Mister Sheppard?"

"Yes." He prayed this was someone who could take him to a bed. "Please tell me you know where I can crash for a few hours."

The man smiled politely. "Of course, sir. Doctor McKay apologizes for not having an apartment prepared for you, but he has reserved a room at the Regency for you until you've had the chance to select your apartment."

"As long as it has a bed, at this point, I'm happy with anything." John gave him a grateful look. "I'll worry about everything else once I've gotten some rest."

"It is one of the top hotels on the Island, sir," he said, taking the bag from John's hand and ushering him to the back of the car.

As soon as John sat down in the car and it was moving, his head fell back. He was sure the island was something to see, but he just couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

He was shaken awake way too soon and quickly and efficiently checked in and shown to his room. It was a two-room suite and larger than the apartment he just gave up in Chicago.

He gave it a quick glance before shucking out of his jeans and collapsing on the bed.

When he was aware of the world again, he had no idea how much time had passed, but he felt a heck of a lot better. He wandered into the shower and got into some clean clothes before deciding it was time to see if this hotel had a restaurant. He was suddenly ravenous.

He made sure to take his room key and the card telling him his room number—he'd never remember it otherwise—and headed downstairs. He heard someone calling his name as he crossed the lobby heading for the restaurant.

Glancing around, he wondered who the hell would be looking for him here. He didn't know anyone here.

He caught the tail-end of a wave from one of the receptionists.

He wandered over, trying to ignore his growling stomach. "Hi, I'm John Sheppard. Did you need something from me?"

"Yes, Mister Sheppard," the rather hyper brunette said. She handed over a small package. "This arrived for you."

He raised an eyebrow, wondering what it was. "Thanks."

He hefted the package and headed for the restaurant, getting seated moments later. The waiter was right behind him with a carafe. "Coffee, sir?"

"God, yes, and keep it coming. I'd also like whatever your biggest breakfast plate is on the menu."

"There are several," he said, pointing them out. "It depends what you want."

John pointed to one that had pancakes and sausage. Once the waiter was gone, he turned to the package. Curiosity got the better of him, and he opened it while he sipped on his coffee.

A cell phone dropped onto the table along with a note.

Sheppard-

Here's an international cell. As long as you're not calling China every day and talking for twenty hours, don't worry about anything. While I can afford it, I would rather not spend all my money on your calls. You have unlimited texting and data—no porn, please. We've already programmed some numbers for you.

Also, the estate agent should be there by noon. Pick out a good flat.

-MRM

Huh. John blinked at it, the shoved it in his pocket. Who was he going to call? Maybe once he had an address, he'd call Aiden to see about setting up a regular shipment of coffee, but other than that, he didn't have anyone to talk to.

Breakfast arrived after he downed three cups of coffee.

When he felt human again, he found out the local time and set his watch. Since it was about noon, he wandered out into the lobby to try and find this real estate person.

There was a tall brunette in a very sleek suit wandering aimlessly in the lobby. He decided to try her first.

"Excuse me? Are you the real estate agent sent by Doctor McKay?"

She turned, her green eyes narrowing as he looked him over. "Mister Sheppard?"

He smiled. "That's me. Apparently I'm supposed to find an apartment today."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, sticking out her hand. "You weren't what I was expecting. Sarah Eagleston."

He wondered what she had been expecting. He shook her hand. "So, I have no idea what McKay told you, but all I need is a place with a bathroom and a place to make small meals. So the cheapest efficiency you can find will be perfect."

"You're looking for a one bedroom," she said with a nod. "Doctor McKay told me what you were looking for and I have a number of apartments to show you today."

John shrugged. "Lead the way."

She chatted on the way to the car. "I have several one bedroom flats selected, as well as a few two bedroom units. Doctor McKay was very specific in what he was looking for. Did you have a preference to location?"

"Ah, definitely not a two bedroom. It's just me, what do I need the space for? And I don't need anything huge. Really, whatever the cheapest place on the island for rent is will be fine for me."

"That will not be appropriate for a man such as Doctor McKay," she said, shaking her head. "This is an investment property and he has certain standards."

John blinked. "I thought I was just going to rent an apartment, not buy a place. And as far as I know, he'll probably never set foot it in. It's just a place for me to crash between flying him places."

"It doesn't matter." She gestured toward her car, heading around to the driver's side—on the right. God, they drove on the wrong side here. "Location preference?"

He sighed. "As close to the airport hangars as possible."

"Everything on the island is within a thirty minute drive. Anything else? Stables? Golf courses? Ocean?"

"Closer to the airport would be better. Other than that, I really don't care." He paused. "And if you can recommend a good place to get a cheap motorcycle, I'd appreciate it."

"You'd need to speak to Doctor McKay about that."

"I'm not asking Doctor McKay to buy me a bike. I'll buy it myself, hence the cheap part. I'll need a way to get around the island when I'm here, and that's my preferred mode of transportation."

"You would need to speak to Doctor McKay," she repeated as she started her car and they headed out.

John made a face, but didn't argue. He had a feeling he wouldn't get anywhere. He was beginning to wonder if maybe he had made a mistake. He had signed on to be a pilot, not to have someone dictate his life to him. If he wanted that, he could have gone crawling back to his father.

The first apartment—a two bedroom—overlooked a golf course. It was huge and had every modern convenience he could want.

"No." John shook his head as soon as they were walking in the door. "This feels like a country club. I just want somewhere I can sleep and shower, and maybe make a cup of coffee."

"That is not what Doctor McKay wants. He's pre-selected these apartments for you."

"Doctor McKay won't be living here. I don't care what he wants, and if he wants to invest in a place, that's fine. But I don't need or want anything fancy. What the hell would I do here? I'd worry about breaking something instead of being able to relax. And there are too many windows."

"It will be fully insured, so there's no need to worry about anything like that. Did you see the spa tub in the master bath?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose and decided to see if this phone had McKay's number in it. Or at least the number to someone who could get to him. "Could you give me a minute?" He left her in the kitchen and walked into a bedroom that was bigger than his entire apartment in Chicago as he found a number in the phone and dialed it.

It was answered a few seconds later but an overly polite woman. "Mister Sheppard, how can I be of assistance?"

"I'd like to talk to whoever sent the real estate agent to me, if I could. She and I have very different ideas of what I need."

"Doctor McKay selected the flats himself this morning."

"I was afraid of that. He chose a lot of very large, very impractical places. Could you call the agent and tell her to show me the small, cheap places instead?"

"I'm sorry, sir. These are the places Doctor McKay thought were simply adequate. He wanted larger properties, but she convinced him to look for something a little more…reasonable. Can you not find something suitable within the twenty properties he selected?"

"Twenty…" John pinched the bridge of his nose again. "I'm at the first one now. And it's… large. With a lot of space I don't need. This is way more money and way bigger than what I need for a place I'll sleep in."

"Doctor McKay's travel schedule is very unpredictable. He can travel twice in a week or one in three months. He wanted to ensure you were comfortable."

"And I appreciate that, I do. But I really don't need anything like this. I'm used to an apartment the size of the bathroom in this place."

"That is immaterial."

This wasn't getting him anywhere, so he sighed. "All right, fine, I'll look at the rest of these places. Thanks." John headed back out. "Change of plans. On your list, I want you to strike out all the two-bedrooms. And then I want you to narrow it down to the smallest square footage and those are the ones I want to see first."

"I honestly don’t have time to drive all over the island several times. These are laid out in the fasted possible route to ensure you see as many as you can today."

"And I'm telling you that it won't matter because I'm going to pick the absolute smallest place I can find."

"This will be your primary residence. You need to think of this long-term, sir."

He wanted to bang his head against the wall. "I still have my apartment in Chicago. It's smaller than the kitchen we're standing in right now. I spend my life in small spaces like cramped cockpits. I've built a career out of living in those spaces. This," he waved his hand in the air, "is too much for me. I live alone, I don't have a pet, and I spend as much time as humanly possible in the air. This is just… a waste."

"You need to change the way you think, sir. You work for Rodney McKay. A certain…image is expected."

"I'm his pilot. It's my job to get him where he needs to go safely and in a set time. No one cares how I live when I'm not doing that. Hell, no one will probably even notice me after this if I'm doing my job right."

"He cares," she said, sounding exasperated. "He was going to just…pick a place for you and that would be the end of it. I told him to let you pick since you were going to stay there. Apparently, I was wrong to suggest this."

John finally slumped against the counter feeling defeated. "Fine. All right. This place is a no, let's just… go to the next one."

Sarah opened her mouth as if to say something else, but then simply shook her head and led the way out, back to the car.

By the time she dropped him back off at the hotel, they were both frustrated and she wasn't speaking to him. He had rejected every single one of the apartments she had shown him. He was about ready to find a Holiday Inn and see if they would rent him a semi-permanent room just to counter all the opulent apartments he was being taken to.

He'd only slumped down into one of the chairs in his suite when his phone rang.

He dug it out of his pocket and answered without looking at it. "Sheppard."

"How could you not pick one condo?"

"Because they were all like small palaces." John made a face. "Seriously, McKay, tell your people to stop showing me the massive places that have five times the space I'll ever need, and just let me look at an efficiency. I don't even need it to have a bedroom, I can get a couch to double as a bed like I have in Chicago."

"Absolutely not. You will pick one of those…twenty places or else I'll pick it for you and move you into it. Do you understand? I expect you to have it picked by tomorrow morning."

The phone clicked off.

John looked at the phone and scowled at it. It only took him a few minutes of fiddling to show the "Unknown" number and call McKay back. "I'm not a child you can just tell to go sit and stay, McKay. I like small spaces."

"How did you get this number?"

"I hacked this phone you gave me to show it to me. Now tell your people to show me at least smaller one-bedrooms. There are way too many windows and open spaces in the ones I was looking at today. I'd never be able to relax in any of them."

"You'll pick one of the flats you saw. Nothing else was up to standard. Do I need to fire you for refusing to follow an order? I thought military men were supposed to be able to follow orders when given. Apparently I was mistaken."

"I got kicked out for failure to obey stupid orders. Seriously, I can't live in those places. They… make my skin crawl. It's just too much open space. There's no way to make it secure, so I'd never be able to sleep."

"They all have high-end security systems. Get used to it." The phone clicked off.

John called him right back. "I don't trust security systems, I trust myself. 'Security' people are a joke. They don't have the first fucking clue how to secure a place."

"So customize it to fit your needs. Money is not exactly an issue. And I don’t have the time or the inclination to argue with you about this. Pick one of the twenty and move in." The phone clicked off again.

John growled. Fine. He called the agent and told her to buy the smallest one. Then he got up and went down to the reception desk, finding out there was a small rental complex most of the hotel employees lived in not far away. He went over and found it was similar to what he had in Chicago. It took most of what he had left of his savings to put a security deposit down on it, but with luck he would get paid before that became an issue, and at least he had a place to sleep. Now he needed to find a couch.

He got a call about an hour later.

He was in a thrift store he had found down the street eyeing a beat-up couch. It had a few loose springs, but he was trying to decide if he could live with that, so he answered the phone absently. "Sheppard."

"Mister Sheppard?" The woman was prim and proper.

"Speaking."

"I'm sorry to inform you, but the security deposit for the rental will need to be returned to you."

"What?" He straightened, giving her all of his attention. "What do you mean? The check was good."

"You do not meet the requirements to purchase in that sub-division. I'm sorry this wasn't caught earlier."

"What do mean I don't meet the requirements? I can pass a military-level background check. How could I possibly not pass yours?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but those units are only available to hotel personnel and you do not work for the hotel. Where should I send the check?"

He had to resist the urge to bang his head against another wall. "I can pick it up, but could you recommend somewhere nearby that will rent to me then?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't help you with that. Most of the housing in that area is reserved for hotel or service personnel only. Perhaps you can speak with a letting agent?"

"Fine. Thank you. I'll be by in an hour to pick up the check." After he swung back by, he then went in and gathered up all his stuff from the suite and checked out of the hotel, starting the walk back to the hangar. Fine, if everyone wanted to play that way, he'd just live on the god damned plane. He had done it before, and he could do it again.

When he got to the hanger, he found it locked up tight and a security guard looking at him strangely.

"John Sheppard." He flashed his ID. "I'm the pilot for McKay's plane. I'd like to get in there."

"Why, sir? It's not scheduled for a departure."

"I know. I'd still like to get in, please." John was exhausted and just wanted to sleep.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't let you in."

"The plane is my responsibility, and I need to get in. I promise I won't try to take it out of the hangar."

"I’m sorry, sir. I can't allow it." The security guard was eyeing him very strangely.

"Why the hell not? I'm the listed pilot for the plane, I have all the ID necessary to prove it, I don't want to fly it anywhere, I just want to get in so I can go to fucking sleep."

"I’m sorry, sir, but the hanger is not open for overnight accommodations." The guard tapped a button in this booth before stepping outside. "Sir, are you sure you're all right?"

John clenched his teeth. "I don't want to sleep in the hangar; I want to sleep in the crew quarters on the plane, where I actually have some fucking control over my surroundings. I'm not asking for the world here, I'm asking for you to move aside and let me get to the plane I was hired to take care of so I can do said job."

"I can't do that, sir."

"Why. Not."

"It's not permitted." He glanced past John and at the same time John heard the sound of a car pulling up. He turned, only to find a police cruiser—or the local equivalent—pulling up to the hanger.

Great. Just great. "Fine. No amount of salary is worth this kind of fucking aggravation about where the hell I sleep. Which direction is the commercial airport? I'll just go there and catch a flight home."

"Sir, you need to come with us," the officer said, his hand on the butt of his baton.

John turned around and sighed. "Yes, fine. Whatever you need. I wasn't here to cause trouble, I just wanted to go to sleep in my plane. I didn't realize that would be a problem, and I apologize."

The officer directed him to the back of the patrol car. Before he was seated inside, the cop took his bag from him, dumping it in the trunk. The officer sitting in the driver's seat eyed him suspiciously.

God, he was tired. How did he always manage to get himself into these situations? If he wasn't being brought up on charges for disobeying orders, he was being arrested for trying to go to sleep. He had seriously pissed off some God somewhere to have this kind of lousy luck.

The next hour was a dizzying blur of moving scenery and the inside of the local police station. He was finally placed into an interview room and left alone. His stuff was still MIA.

John slumped into the chair, aware that someone was probably watching him through the two-way glass. He wondered how long they were planning to keep him, and whether the station was anywhere near the commercial airport.

He guessed it was finally about an hour later when the door to the room opened and a very grumpy and tired Rodney McKay walked in. "What the HELL are you doing?"

John was genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected McKay himself to come bail him out. "Getting arrested, apparently."

"For trespassing, yes."

"I wasn't trespassing. I was trying to get to the plane I was hired to fly. I had no idea they wouldn't let me in, much less would call the cops for trying."

"You were trespassing and why is it so hard for you to follow very simple orders?" McKay rubbed a hand over his face.

"You're not the first to ask that. All I wanted to do was sleep, and after the efficiency I rented gave me back my deposit because I wasn't hotel staff, I got fed up and figured I would just sleep in the crew quarters."

"Right. Now that call makes sense." He sighed and narrowed his eyes at John. "Okay. This is what's going to happen if you want to keep your job. One: you will move into the condo I have selected for you. No arguments. No nothing. You will live there. Make it your home. I don't want to hear any excuses or complaints or whining. This is not up for discussion."

He took a breath. "Two: You will work with an interior designer to purchase the furniture and appliances you need for the condo. You will have it completed by the end of the week. Three: You will stop acting like an asshole and suck it up. You work for me. I expect a certain level of comfort and stature for all of my employees. Hell, take up golf. Buy an expensive bike. I don't care. Just don't kill yourself and enjoy your life. That’s all I'm asking."

John looked away with a sigh. God, why couldn't he just be like everyone else and want the finer things in life? Why couldn't he allow anyone to actually help him with anything? That would make things so much easier. He hoped enough groveling would get him his old job back.

"Then I guess you had better drop me off at the commercial airport, since I can't do that. I just… I can't be that person. I spent too much time on the front lines to ever be comfortable in a space that open, with that many windows. Sorry to take up so much of your time."

"That's not an option."

John shook his head. "Look, I know this sounds crazy to you. Trust me, I've been told that before, too. But… look, I spent years in Black Ops, and I just… I can't live in a place that I don't feel like I can secure. It's stupid, and paranoid and fucking crazy. I'm well aware that I have issues, and I didn't think they would be a problem otherwise I would have brought them up in the beginning. But I can't live in those fishbowls you had me looking at. If that's a term of my employment, I… can't do it. I just can't."

"You don't even know what place I picked." McKay took a breath, looking exhausted and vulnerable all at once. "All I'm asking at this point is for you to try it out. Give me…it a week."

John took a deep breath. God he was tired. "All right. I want this job, McKay, and I'm really not trying to be an asshole. I just have issues with open spaces and trying to sleep in them."

"A week."

John nodded. "Does that mean I'm free to go, or are the police still holding me for trespassing? I think I need some sleep, and then tomorrow I'll check the place out, and do my best to make it feel like home."

"It means if you agree to stay sane for a week, I'll drop the charges, yes."

John had to laugh. "I already agreed to stay." He gave the other man a look. "You know, I'm surprised you're doing all this for me. I mean, I work for you. Why go to so much trouble for one pilot who can't seem to stay out of trouble?"

McKay shrugged. "Call it a weakness for hard-luck cases. Come on."

John made another face, but got up and followed the other man out. His duffle was waiting for him, which he was happy about. He had customized those travel carafes with the same kind of shielding they used on high-altitude aircraft, which meant those suckers kept coffee hot for a long fucking time. He would have been pissed to lose them.

McKay didn't speak as he led him outside, aiming at a small electric vehicle without a driver.

John eyed it, surprised again.  "I figured you never drove yourself anywhere."

"There are times when I need to get away from people and think and this…thing is more than sufficient for that purpose. Besides, I'm not that much of an asshole to wake someone up at one in the morning to take me to the local police station because my pilot has gone off the deep end." He pointed. "Get in."

John flushed and got in. "I really didn't think it would be an issue. I just wanted to go sleep in the crew quarters. And I really didn't think they'd call you. Sorry."

"Apparently you weren't thinking, which is the issue," he said, starting up the car.

John sighed, he couldn't debate that. Even he didn't always get where his mind went. "I checked out of my hotel, so wherever you want to drop me for the night is fine."

"Noticed that, too." McKay didn't look at him as he pulled out, navigating the roads easily—if a little scarily for John.

"I might have been a little frustrated. And holy shit, did you bail me out just to kill me with your driving?"

"My driving is perfectly fine and completely legal."

"It's scary as fuck, and I've flown in combat missions." John winced. When would he learn to stop insulting his employers? "Okay, forget I said that, and I'll just sit here like a good pilot and keep my mouth shut."

McKay snorted. "You're apparently just a wuss, then."

Glaring, John tried to slam on brakes he didn't have access to as they skittered around a corner. "I am not a wuss."

"My driving is fine."

"Your driving sucks balls."

McKay glanced over at him and they swerved into the other lane.

"Watch out!" John tried to hit his invisible brakes again.

"What? There's nothing wrong," he said as he pulled back into the correct lane. The fact that they drove on the wrong side of the road here wasn't helping. "It's not like there's traffic at this time in the morning."

"Just… seriously. Wow. New rule, you never get to drive again. Ever."

"This coming from the man who tried to sleep on the side of the road in a cardboard box." They swerved again.

John had braced himself against as many surfaces as he could. "I wasn't trying to sleep in a box, I was trying to sleep on the plane!"

"They weren't going to let you in, so you would have been on the side of the road!" McKay yelled, swerving back into his lane as an oncoming vehicle blew its horn at them.

"Holy fuck watch the road! This is my punishment for getting you up at this time of night, isn't it? You're trying to give me a fucking heart attack! And okay, when they wouldn't let me in, I probably would have set up camp somewhere, but it's not like I don't know how to sleep outside!"

"I'm watching the road, just fine. I don't need your hysterics!"

"This isn't hysterics! It's fearing for my life!"

"You're perfectly safe. I have a perfectly clean driving record." Another car honked at them as McKay drifted across the line again.

"Probably because they're all too dead to complain! Seriously, you are never, ever getting behind the wheel of a car again. Ever."

McKay snorted. "Calm down. You're safe. It's only another thirty minutes from here, tops."

"Christ. I'm going to die. I survived Afghanistan, a black mark and getting kicked out of the Air Force, not to mention several plane crashes, and I'm going to die in a fucking electric car in the middle of tech paradise island."

"Calm down. There's probably valium in the glove box if you need it."

John opened the glove box and dry-swallowed two pills without stopping to check if they were the right ones.

"Are you insane?! I was kidding."

John pretty much immediately began to feel a bit more mellow. "That helped, thanks. Now I can die peacefully."

The next half-hour passed easily with John in a light hazy doze. There was other horns blaring, other bright lights shining on the windshield, but nothing mattered. McKay chattered at him, but it didn't seem like his non-response was making any difference. Apparently the man had no issues talking to himself.

John guessed they must be wherever McKay wanted to go, since he was suddenly being tugged out of the car. He leaned into the other man's space. "You smell really good."

"Great. He's a touchy drunk," McKay grumbled. "Would you get his other arm before he smothers me?"

John didn't know who else was there, since his senses had honed in on McKay. "If you weren't straight, I would totally hit on you. You have great eyes."

John was shifted into someone else's arms and he was maneuvered forward. There were hallways and stairs and then he was horizontal—on a bed?—the room spinning around him.

He heard other voices, but he passed out, hard. When the world came back into focus again, it took him about five minutes to figure out where the hell he was, and what had happened. When it all came crashing back, he moaned and rolled over. Maybe he could smother himself with a pillow. How the hell did he always manage to not only fuck up, but do it so spectacularly?

He cautiously opened his eyes, glancing around the dimly lit and well-appointed room, he tried to figure out where he was. He spotted a covered tray on the bedside table, but other than his one duffel there was nothing else out of place in the room.

He could see a few doors—one probably led into the hall. Maybe the others were to a closet and a bathroom.

With a sigh, he got up. Time to face it like a man. He opened the first door.

Bathroom. A huge bathroom.

He relieved himself, then stripped and got into the huge shower.

He stayed in there an insanely long time, but when he finally climbed out he felt semi-normal.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to go see if he could find McKay and grovel to keep his job.

He opened the first door—and walked in to an empty but spacious walk-in closet.

Okay, that was one room down. He looked around and sighed. The closet was the size of his Chicago apartment. He backed out and tried the next door.

This one lead out into the hallway—a deeply plush carpet covering the surface. He was in the middle of a hallway, with no distinct way indicating the right or wrong way to go.

John decided to try going right, and open every door along the way until he either hit a dead end or found someone to direct him. He left his own door open, so at least he would have a reference point.

The room next to him was another bedroom, the furniture pristine. The next door led into a storage closet. The hallway turned just beyond to the right, the windows along the left letting in ample light. He was on the ground floor of what seemed to be a sprawling mansion or castle.

He was guessing McKay had brought him home the night before, and John shook his head. No wonder the guy thought John needed a huge condo if he lived here.

He followed the hallway around, poking his head into all of the open doors he came across. He found a huge two storey library, a formal dining and living room, and what he'd call a parlor.

Christ, this was like being in his father's house all over again. John had spent a great deal of his youth wandering the halls aimlessly, completely lost. He had made so many turns at this point, he wasn't even sure where the original bedroom he started in was at anymore.

There was a surprised voice behind him as he poked his head into what looked like an unused high-tech personal gym. "Mister Sheppard?"

He whirled, grateful to have found a real person. "Ah ha! I knew I'd find someone eventually. I'm trying to find Doctor McKay's office.

"Doctor McKay is not presently in residence. I'm Audra. How can I help you?"

Audra. This was the woman who had first called him. John deflated a little at learning McKay wasn't here. "I just wanted to apologize to him. And try to convince him not to fire me. I'm really not usually this much of a screw-up. At least not right off the bat like this."

She smiled, the expression fake. "Did you need something?"

John had decided he was going to try and be really a stellar employee from here on out. "No. Doctor McKay mentioned last night he had a condo he wanted me to move in to, so if you could direct me back to wherever the room I stayed in last night is at, and then where the condo is, I'll just get out of your hair."

She nodded after staring at him for a long moment. "Follow me and I'll get you the key and the information. Henry can take you there."

"Thanks." John was glad she was leading the way, since he was immediately lost again as soon as they started moving. Once he had the information, he was grateful she had someone take him to his room to grab his things before leading him out of the Great Expanse of a house. Once he was on his way, he just hoped he could not fuck this up any further.

Henry—a non-talkative skinny kid, for lack of a better description—drove him back into the main town and into one of the developments John had been in yesterday. This one sported a golf course and some units on the water.

Henry pulled up in front of one of the freestanding units—not one John had looked at yesterday. "This is your condo, sir. Do you require assistance with your bag?"

"No, that's fine. Thank you." John got out and the key fit, so this must be the place. He pushed open the door, curious as to what McKay had decided to do with him.

The main floor was open concept and John could see all the way into the high-end kitchen at the back of the unit. There were several windows and a sliding glass door which opened out onto a deck which overlooked the water.

A staircase brought him up to the bedrooms—three of them. The master was huge, but the windows were normal sized—which was a surprise. Apparently McKay had listened to some of what he'd said.

John explored, and while it was still a hell of a lot bigger than anything he needed, he decided to suck it up and deal with it. He chose the smallest of the bedrooms for himself, which only had one window facing toward the street.

He dropped his bag, and decided to see if the interior decorator McKay wanted him to use was in the phone. McKay had told him he better have it furnished by the end of the week, and John didn't want to miss the deadline.

The interior designer—a bouncy, petite blonde named Inga—was at his doorstep less than an hour after he called—and then proceeded to outfit the entire house.

He pretty much let her do what she wanted. He just stipulated that he didn't want anything girly, he liked blues and grays, and he wanted a decent coffee maker.

Although, when she mentioned his man cave—the one side room on the main floor—she started to get excited. "We can outfit this anyway you want. Game systems, electronics—"

"Um, you can put everything you want in there. I would like a good computer, if it's possible, and a desk I can work at. And I'll admit to loving the Xbox and PS2, but if it's not in the budget, that's fine."

"If you're going to use it, I can put it in. Doctor McKay did not specify a budget." Her eyes twinkled just a bit at that comment.

He had to grin. This was probably her dream job. "If it's here with some games, I'll use it. Also, a nice television, and if it's possible, a satellite hookup to see the football games from the States."

She nodded, jotting down some notes. "International satellite coverage. Anything else?" She paused and then continued. "Oh, and I'm going to use the small room upstairs for your office. That will work perfectly."

He wrinkled his nose, but didn't contest it. He would deal. "Is there anywhere in town I can go to buy a motorcycle so I'm not at the mercy of whoever is around to play shuttle service. I'm sure McKay's people have better things to do than drive me around."

"Yes, of course. There is a large motorbike salesroom just outside of Douglas on the road to Peel. I can take you there if you want. I have to head to my office to get everything started. I'll have the painters here in the morning around nine."

He nodded. "That's fine, and thanks. I actually will catch a ride in with you if it's not any trouble. I'd like to get something today if I can find what I'm looking for."

"No trouble at all. But let's finish up here, first," she said, walking back toward the kitchen. "It looks like the appliances are good. You want a coffee maker—espresso or just a regular brew unit?"

"Espresso is my addiction of choice. And I haven't even looked, are there any dishes or anything here? I can do light cooking, but nothing major, so a microwave and a few basic pots and pans would be good too."

"The standard stuff should be here, but I'll make sure you have new everything."

He nodded, following her around and answering her questions as best he could. "What about groceries? Is there a place nearby I can go. I know when I was hired McKay mentioned he has allergies, but I didn't know if that extended to what I keep here."

"That you would need to check with his chef. I don't know about anything like that."

"Okay. Thanks."

She eventually finished her review of the condo and then headed back to the outskirts of town, dropping John off near the car dealership.

He glanced around, and hoped the check he had from his savings account would be enough to cover at least a down payment on something. He decided to go with something small but fast, that he could use for getting around, but also could cart things back and forth if he needed to.

The salesman was nice—and very eager. It made the negotiation process fun and it ended up benefiting him in the long run.

John left with a very slick bike and absolutely no money to his name. But he had a blast driving it around the island, until it was starting to get dark and he headed back to the condo.

There was something nice about coming home to his own place—granted this one still needed a lot of furniture and whatnot to make it a home. At least it had a bed he could sleep in tonight and a television and chair in the downstairs "man cave".

He shook his head at the term. He brought the bike just inside the front hall, making a mental note to ask the decorator about adding something he could store it in overnight outside, maybe a small shed/garage or something.

The next day—promptly at nine—the painters were there along with the designer. It was a whirlwind of activity and a little much to handle at times. There was a garage—along the side of the condo.

John retreated there to more or less hide with his bike while they were working. When he got bored with that, he took it out and explored the Island. He even used the phone to call and place a recurring order with Aiden for a shipment of his special blend of espresso beans once a month.

Apart from McKay's overly helpful staff, he knew no one here. He hadn't considered that.

After a few days, he was a little lonely. The work was finally done on the condo, so John was just sitting there by himself. Not that he really had any friends other than the camaraderie at the coffee shop, but he was in the air so much, it never mattered.

This was…weird.

He hadn't had this much down time in… well, ever. He'd been kept busy with things his family considered important to round him out as a kid, then joined the military, and then the charter. It was enough to always keep him on the go. Now, he wondered what to do with himself. Maybe he'd get another degree. He had toyed with the idea of going back to school.

He'd have to do an online school because he couldn't depend on his schedule. Although, this was the world's best place for scientists. Maybe someone here would work with him.

He decided to go with that. Maybe McKay's assistant could help. He dialed the general number on his phone instead of the one he had hacked for McKay's personal line. He hadn't heard from the man since that first night, so John was taking it as a hint to stay out of sight and out of trouble.

"McKay Enterprises, Audra speaking. How can't I help you Mister Sheppard?"

It was weird that she always knew it was him. "Hi, Audra. I was actually hoping you might be able to help me. I have a lot more time on my hands, so I was considering getting another degree. Is there an online university, or maybe classes or something here on the island?"

"I'm sure you can find the information for a broad humanities degree online."

"I probably could, but I'm more interested in getting my PhD in mathematics since I already have my Masters. After that, if I'm still bored, I've always though about getting a Masters in aeronautical engineering."

There was a long pause. "A PhD?"

"Yeah. It's something I'd always planned to do, and since I have the time, I might as well. I know there are a lot of science firms here, but I also don't want to end up taking classes or asking to be a thesis advisor from a competitor of McKay's. So that's why I figured I would call and see if you could recommend a place or person I could talk to for setting something up."

"Ah…I'll have to do some research for you." There was another long pause. "Can't you just…take up golf?"

"Golf? Why would I do that? It's got to be the most boring sport ever invented. And I can only ride my bike around the island so many times, and it's been made clear to me the plane is off limits unless McKay needs to go somewhere. So this is my next best option for staying out of trouble."

She sighed—the first time he'd really gotten attitude from one of McKay's employees. "We have the Open University which is designed for long-distance degrees. There's no university on the island so you'd have to go to Liverpool for further education if you wanted to attend classes in person. I'll get back to you with some options."

"Thanks. I appreciate it!" John grinned. It might be wrong, but Audra annoyed him for some reason. So ruffling her feathers a bit wasn't a hobby he could indulge in often, but it was one he decided he'd dip his toes in softly wherever he could.

But it still left him adrift.

He surfed the Internet for a while, then decided to amuse himself by working on one of the Millennium problems. He had toyed with one off and on for years, and it consumed his attention when he did, so it seemed like a good way to pass the time.

His phone rang at some point later when he was knee deep in one of the problems.

He answered it absently. "Sheppard."

"You want to get your PhD?"

John blinked. McKay. "Oh, hey, while I've got you here. I have a question. I'm working on the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer Conjecture, and I--"

"You're just…working on the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer Conjecture in your spare time?"

"Yes. Why? I have been for years, and I'm bored, so I pulled it back out. Has Audra had any luck finding me a program that would work around my schedule?"

"No, I spotted your request on her desk after I fired her ass for corporate espionage. I just…didn't believe what I read."

"Wait, what?" John sat up. "Seriously? I didn't like her, but even I wouldn't think she'd do that. Wow."

"You have your Masters in math?"

"Yes." John shrugged even though Rodney couldn't see it. "Why?"

"That's not in your records—least not the ones I saw. Why is that?"

"I don't know what records you looked at. It was in my military records, since I got the degrees through their programs, but I didn't bother to put it on my resume when I applied for the charter, so I doubt they knew. All they cared about was my flight record, not what I did in my spare time."

"Okay. That's…are you MENSA?"

"I tested, but I never joined. It was more curiosity over how I would score."

"You…never…" McKay was sputtering. "How could you not join?"

John silently laughed at the disbelief in McKay's voice. "I didn't have a reason to join. What, did you think I was stupid? They don't let stupid people fly million plus dollar jets, you know."

"From the way you've been acting it could have surprised me."

"Yeah, about that..." John sighed. "I'm sorry. I usually have better control over my issues. I promise it won't happen again."

"I doubt that, but we're going to keep an eye on it anyway," McKay said offhandedly. "Getting back to the math thing, what are you looking to do with it?"

"Nothing really," John was grateful to let the other thing drop. "It's more that I have more time on my hands than I'm used to. So I figure I'll get the PhD first, and then if I'm still bored, I'll get the Masters in aeronautical engineering. I know a lot about how a plane works, but I'd like to know more so I can do more than just spot something wrong, I would be able to fix it, too."

"Hmm. Well, if you want to talk about the surface area of India, Sreekumar and Nirmalan are your men. Milnor is still in the States, working at some state university I think. If you want to focus on topology, algebraic geometry, or number theory Serre might be an option, but he might be back in France. Eppes has been working for the FBI, so I think he's full-time in California these days. Then you have Atiyah and Singer. They've been working to build some bridges between math and theoretical physics. I think they have something, but they're having some issues proving it."

John blinked. "I... have no idea. I just like the symmetry of how the numbers work, and the thrill of suddenly making something make sense, you know?"

"Hmm. Maybe Eppes, then, or Lax. No, wait. Lax is in NY and he drives me up a wall. No, Eppes, might be good and I think he's one of the few who can actually multitask. I can give him a call."

"Don't I need to do more than have a famous mathematician tutor me to get a PhD? Don't I need to get in to a university or program or something first? If I'm going to do it, I want to do it right."

"Oh. You want a program?"

"Well, no. But I would like to get a degree out of it for doing the work. I mean, otherwise no one will believe me, will they?"

"Mathematicians aren't known to lie."

"True. You really think Eppes would take me on as what? An intern? I've never done anything like this before."

"I don't know. It depends on what you want to do."

"I guess I never really thought about it. Math has always just been something I do to pass the time. I'm good at it, and I like it."

"You might want to look into a program."

John closed his eyes for a minute. "I want to build planes. Something fast and sleek and modern that will make people catch their breath. I want to know the numbers behind the theory, and once I have that down, I want to learn how to take them and make them a reality."

"You definitely need a program. You have internet, right? Do some research. Let me know what you come up with and I can pick one I think would be best. Oh, and I have to go to Munich in two days."

"Okay." John pulled himself back from the numbers. "What time do you want to leave, and how long will we be there? Can I get a copy of your schedule?"

"Audra was supposed to have sent you the information. I'll send it in the morning."

"Since you don't have a secretary and I have too much time on my hands, why don't I just come out there in the morning? I can take care of the stuff she did until you get a chance to hire someone else."

"Oh, I hired someone else, but she's still getting used to the computer systems. I'll email in the morning." The phone clicked off.

John sighed. Well, that had gone well. He started searching the Internet for programs that might work, forwarding them to McKay as he found anything interesting. At least it was looking like he wouldn't be bored for too much longer.

 

***

 

There were times that Rodney McKay doubted himself. They didn't happen often when it came to his work. He knew his mind was far above anyone else in the world, so there was no question that he was right when it came to equations or hypotheses.

But when it came to things outside of the realm of work—like spiky-haired pilots who had their masters in mathematics, for instance, and secretaries who were double-agents working for the Scum of the Earth Calvin Kavanaugh—he was a little…befuddled at times.

Sheppard apparently liked to test the limits. He should have guessed from his military record, but he'd sailed straight and true for the last few years. Rodney hadn't thought it was a problem—until he was getting the call from the police department at midnight.

He honestly didn’t have the time or the inclination to deal with morons, but something about Sheppard made him pause and not fire his ass immediately. He hadn't figured out what that was yet, but he would—even if he had to make a spreadsheet or a flow chart to do it.

But now he was prepping for a presentation in Munich. It was a complicated subject that dealt with the subspace and how, theoretically you could build bridges to other universes, parallel universes, even tapping into their energy. It was very promising, but had yet to be proved.

But then, theoretical physics was all about the numbers and proving it mathematically and scientifically.

When he arrived at the airport, his plane was already out and waiting for him, and this time, there were no wires or anything connected to it, so he assumed it was ready to go.

He climbed on board and Sheppard was standing there, grinning at him.

"All set?"

"As set as I'm going to be," he grumbled, dumping his laptop bag on the nearest flat surface. "The topic is going to be over the heads of most of the audience and I'm going to have to field thousands of stupid questions."

"What's it about?" Sheppard leaned against the doorway, his expression curious.

"Simply: energy," he said with a shrug. "The world needs a better, cleaner way to get energy, so I've been working on a way to actually create clean energy by stealing it from a parallel dimension of time-space."

"Okay, that's really cool."

Rodney shrugged and blushed slightly. "It's what I do. Well, a little of what I do."

"It's still fucking cool." Sheppard grinned. "So, the flight won't be too long, and as soon as you're ready, we can take off."

"Yeah, yeah, just give me a few minutes to get my laptop set up and you can leave. There is coffee on this thing, right?"

Sheppard's grin got bigger. "In the carafes. Just don't overdo it—it's high octane, not regular coffee."

Rodney's eyebrow went up. "High octane?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Made from really, really good espresso beans. It's my addiction of choice."

Rodney rolled his eyes and got himself settled—coffee and Danish at his side. Liftoff was smooth and he immediately got to work, finishing his PowerPoint.

"Our time to the gate is about an hour from now, Doctor McKay." Sheppard's voice drifted over the intercom.

Rodney absently hit the intercom button. "An hour?"

"Yes. It's an hour and a half gate to gate, but we have a good tail wind, so I can get us there a bit faster." Sheppard paused. "Would it be okay if I came to your presentation after I get the plane parked? I know most of it will be over my head, but I'd like to hear it anyway."

"Of course. You can do anything you want. I figured you'd tour the city or something."

"I've seen Munich before, and I'm more interested in your theories, to be honest."

Rodney shrugged even though Sheppard couldn't see him. "Do whatever you want."

"Thanks."

"Yeah yeah," he said, waving his hand as he concentrated on his presentation. Why they couldn't have asked him months ago about this, he'd never understand. Instead, they call him two days ahead of time and expect him to present for three hours.

Before he knew it, Sheppard was letting him know they were getting ready to go into final descent.

"Already? You just told me I had an hour."

"That was an hour ago."

"No, it wasn't!"

"Yes, it was."

"No, it wasn't!"

"Trust me, it was."

"It couldn't have been. I'm not even remotely finished yet."

"Well, you can stay on the plane and work for as long as you need, but we'll be on the ground in about ten minutes."

"Just….fly around longer or something."

"Why do you need to be in the air to work?"

"I didn't say that."

"Okay. So I'll go ahead and put us on the ground. Just let me know when you're ready to disembark."

"Fine," Rodney grumbled, hunching over his laptop and trying to desperately finish.

He was only vaguely aware of the small bump that said they were on the ground again a few minutes later.

So much to do, so much to do.

At some point, a small cup of coffee and another Danish appeared next to him.

Rodney looked up. "What are you doing back here?"

Sheppard smiled. "Making sure you eat something. We're on the ground and the plane is in the hangar. Your car is outside ready to go whenever you are."

"What! We can't be here already. What time is it?"

"1:15 local time."

"Shit. I need to get over to the University. My presentation is supposed to start at two." He saved his presentation and quickly started shoving everything into his laptop bag.

"Your car is here, and I coordinated with your secretary to tell them you might be late because of plane troubles. She told them you might need to push back the start to 2:30, and they were fine with that."

"You what?" Rodney blinked up at the pilot, not quite believing what he heard.

Sheppard shrugged. "You looked really stressed, so I figured you could use some extra time, and no one will question it if they think it's because your flight was delayed."

"But it wasn't delayed."

"I lied." Sheppard shrugged. "Well, actually your new secretary lied. I just told her what excuse she could use and sound believable."

Rodney huffed and rolled his eyes. "Just…get me to the university," he said, rushing down the stairs to the tarmac where a car was waiting—just like Sheppard said. He paused just before he climbed in the back. "Are you riding with me?"

Sheppard was standing in the door of the plane, and he shrugged again. "It would be easier, but I figured you probably wouldn't want to, so I was going to call a cab once I got you on your way."

"There's plenty of room and now you're going to make me late if you don't make up your Muppet-headed mind."

The other man was down and in the car moments later, and they were off. Sheppard flipped open his phone. "Shelley? Yeah, he's on the move. Tell them he just landed, and we'll get him there by 2:15. Yeah, we'll drive around in the area to give him the extra time he needs to finish up before we go in. Right, I'll keep you posted." He flipped the phone shut and glanced over at Rodney. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Who is Shelley?"

"Your new secretary, whose information you gave me yesterday. You don't know her name?"

"She's blonde and she has…" His hands gestured to his chest, indicating her very ample breast. "What?" he asked when he got a weird look from Sheppard.

"That's how you hire people? No wonder you have shitty security." Sheppard sighed. "If I thought I could get away with it, I'd just take over your security team and fix it. You have so many holes your whole organization is leaking information like a sieve."

"You’re a pilot," Rodney said, emphasizing the word as the car pulled away.

"I'm a pilot who spent several years running Black Ops missions for the Air Force. I probably have a security clearance that rivals yours."

Rodney snorted. "And you could have been MENSA, but look at where you ended up."

Sheppard shrugged. "I'm not debating it, which is why I said I'd do it if I thought I could get away with it, but I know I can't, so I won't try. I'll just have spasms over how bad your security team is. Who is your head of security, anyway? I'm surprised he hasn't fixed some of these problems."

"Um…Daniel…or David…something."

Sheppard shook his head. "See, that's the problem. He should be running background checks on everyone you hire, and at the very least should have one person traveling with you at all times to make sure the area is secure and do what I've been doing for you today—handling anything that comes up so you don't have to worry about it."

"He's a professional and came highly recommended. He's good at his job."

"No he's not. He sucks at his job."

"In the opinion of a pilot."

Sheppard shrugged again. "Just pointing it out. You can choose to do with the information whatever you want."

Rodney settled back into the seat, his mind spinning around the presentation he had to give in less than an hour. It was going to be to a room full of students and professors and probably some of his competition.

When it was time, Sheppard pulled him out of the car and led him toward the holding room before he would go out on stage. "I'm going to find a place to watch from the audience, unless you want me to wait here?"

Rodney waved him off. "Do whatever you want." He glanced around. "Where is the AV guy?"

Sheppard smiled and melted away, and Rodney spent the next few hectic minutes getting ready to go out on stage.

After two minutes of sheer terror before going on, as soon as he walked to the center of the stage he took a deep breath and immediately calmed. The lights more or less blinded him, but he knew the room was full to capacity. He'd peeked before.

"Good afternoon. I'm Doctor Rodney McKay and I'm here to rock your world—when it comes to clean energy, subspace, and parallel universes, that is."

He smiled a little blindly at the audience. "I'm not talking about science fiction here. No, I'm talking about science fact."

He could feel the energy in the room change as soon as he put up his first slide. "We start by building a bridge…"

He talked for close to two hours with a break halfway through to allow the students to get a better look at some of the equations he'd scrawled on the white boards on the stage. The last hour was dedicated to questions—which weren't as stupid as he thought.

He handed out several cards to students to contact him when they graduated—if they didn't get stupid in their final years at school. He might have some good scientists to mentor.

Sheppard was waiting for him when he stepped off the stage the final time. "You're still here."

"I headed back around as you were wrapping up. That was amazing. If you can take it from theory to fact, it will change the world."

"That takes a lot of time and money," he said as the AV guy handed him his laptop.

"Yeah, but this is the first step, and it was fucking amazing." Sheppard was grinning at him.

"Like I said before, it's what I do. It's my job to figure out how the universe works and then adapt it into something beneficial, something that really matters."

Sheppard shook his head as they headed out of the area. "I can't even begin to imagine how you even think of those things. I could follow most of the math, but it was all stuff I never would have thought to put together."

"Time. Experience. Genius."

That got a chuckle out of the other man. "Now I see why you're the rock star of the science world."

"Yes, well, someone has to give these students inspiration. The teachers aren't. They need to stretch their minds—actually use them. Most of the time the students I get are barely above the intelligence of monkeys."

Sheppard laughed again. "Well, I can see how a person of your talents would see the rest of us as a little more ungifted. But you might want to be more polite about phrasing it, otherwise you'll start to get people wanting revenge on you or something."

"Why?" Rodney asked, looking at Sheppard oddly as they walked toward the car. "Why should I say anything except the brutally honest truth? They're stupid. Barely evolved beyond primates."

"Because you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, as the saying goes. You can still cut them to tiny ribbons, but if you're creative about it, it will take them a day or two to even realize they were insulted."

"Yeah yeah yeah," Rodney waved him off, rolling his eyes. "They're morons. Everyone in the science community knows I speak my mind."

Sheppard chuckled. "I can't imagine why that is."

Rodney shot him a confused look. "Why what is?"

"Don't worry about it, it works for you." Sheppard grinned at him. "I'm just the stupid pilot anyway, remember? So don't worry about what I say."

"Good point, good point," Rodney nodded, spotting the car idling near the curb closest to the auditorium.

He heard a chuckle as Sheppard followed him into the car.

The ride back to the plane was uneventful and Rodney relaxed, happy the presentation was over. Overall it had gone well. Even the questions had been good.

Sheppard got out of the car first, but as Rodney climbed out, he suddenly found himself shoved against the car with Sheppard against him. Before he could ask what the hell was going on, a bullet went through the window next to him.

"Someone's shooting at me!" he managed to yell before another bullet buried itself in the door next to him.

"I noticed that." Sheppard was keeping his body in front of Rodney. "When I count to three, you're going to run straight for the plane. I'll be right behind you, and between you and the bullets. Get on, and I'll get us out of here, okay?"

"Why are they shooting at me? My presentation was amazing! I rocked their world! They're shooting at me!"

"We'll worry about that once I have you safe. Now, one, two, three, run!" Sheppard was shoving him forward, making him run. A few more shots rang out, but Sheppard's body always seemed to be between Rodney and where it sounded like the shots were coming from.

Rodney stumbled and nearly fell, tripping over his own feet, a pain blossoming in his left arm.

Sheppard was hauling him up, keeping him on his feet, and then they were on the plane. Sheppard closed the door and was in the cockpit, the sound of engines starting immediately. Since he hadn't closed the cockpit door, Rodney could hear him on the radio. "Tower, this is McKay OneSevenTen. We have a security situation and need to take off immediately. Please clear the runways."

Rodney didn't hear the reply, but the plane was moving, taxing toward the runway.

In ten minutes, they were in the air, and then Sheppard was next to him. There was a red smear on his arm too, and he was limping a bit. "Before you ask, the plane is on auto-pilot and will be okay for a few minutes. Let me see your arm, I want to make sure there's not a bullet lodged in the muscle."

McKay pulled his hand away from his throbbing arm and found it covered in blood. He looked up at Sheppard. "I'm bleeding."

"I know." Sheppard's hands were surprisingly gentle as he pulled Rodney's shirt off the arm. He had pulled a first aid kit out and cleaned and carefully bandaged Rodney's arm. "It looks like it passed clean through, so I think you'll be okay until I can put us on the ground and get you into a hospital."

"They shot me."

"I know. I'm sorry. I was trying to keep myself between you and the bullets, but one got past me. I swear, I won't let it happen again. Just rest. Since I don't know who was shooting at you yet, I'm going to try and get clearance to land at one of the military bases here in Europe where we can get you looked at. I'll keep you posted."

He lifted his head and blinked a few times. It was getting dark in the plane. Wasn't it? "Shot me…"

"Shit, you're going into shock." Sheppard was manhandling him, getting him to lean back. "McKay, Rodney, I need you to focus right now, okay? Don't let go. I need to get into the cockpit to get us landed, so I need you to stay with me."

"What…?" he asked, trying to sort things out. Sheppard lifted his legs, putting something under them.

"I need you to just take a deep breath for me, and don't pass out. You've lost a little blood, but you're going into shock. I need you to try and stay with me until I can get us on the ground and you in the hands of a doctor."

"I’m bleeding…"

"I stopped the bleeding." Sheppard stood up. "Fuck, I need to get us a place to land. Please don't pass out on me. I'll be right back."

Rodney floated for a while, hearing someone talking but the words wouldn't stay with him. They drifted in and out never leaving a trace behind. There were some weird sounds and then someone was back with him again.

"Rodney? We're on the ground, and I'm going to let some people in now who are going to help you."

He turned toward the voice. "Someone shot me."

"I know, and I promise you, I will find out who it was and why. Right now, just focus on letting the nice people on their way help you."

Rodney blinked a few times, Sheppard's concerned face hovering above him. "I don't feel so good."

"I know, buddy. But hang in there. We're going to make it better."

"Don't feel good."

"I know. But you can let go now." Suddenly there were other people, and Sheppard was moving out of the way.

He blinked up at them and someone said something in German—harsh and rough sounding. And then someone touched his arm and pain spiked, sending him spiraling away.

 

***

 

John watched the med team roll McKay out of the plane, and slumped against the wall. Fuck. Right. He needed to take care of getting the plane in a hangar somewhere and see if he could have someone look it over for damage, then he could get his own gunshot wounds taken care of.  

Whoever those fuckers were, he was going to find them and make them pay for putting that helpless look on McKay’s face.  

He glanced up at the man lingering in the cabin, one of his old friends from his Air Force days. He was grateful he was still stationed here, and was able to get them permission to land. “Evan, you’re a godsend.”

"Sheppard, it seems you're up to your old tricks again," he said flashing a smile.

"God, you have no idea. These guys came out of nowhere. If I hadn't seen the flash of a barrel, they would have killed him. Christ."

Lorne moved forward. "I doubt they would have killed him. Why kill a scientist?"

"That's what I need to find out." John sighed. "Is there somewhere I can park this baby? And maybe impose of the AF a bit further to check her over for damage? They were still shooting as I was taxing out."

"You're fine where you are. There are techs looking over the plane already. Nice plane. So, who's the sugar daddy?"

"Thanks. He's Rodney McKay, a rock star scientist. I was hired about a week and a half ago to be his personal pilot."

Lorne burst our laughing. "Really? This baby's yours?"

John had to grin. "Well, as mine as it can be. Isn't she fucking gorgeous? Which makes me even more pissed that someone took shots at her and McKay."

"Let's get you checked over," Lorne said, gesturing toward the door. "And we should probably make sure the blood is off the upholstery."

"Yeah, McKay will flip if he sees it. I have a bullet in my leg and one in my arm, so once we get the plane taken care of, I should have those checked."

"You what?" Lorne was immediate at his side, forcing him to sit. "You need to tell people about this kind of thing, Shep."

John shrugged. "I just did. Up to this point, it was more important to get the plane somewhere safe, and McKay into the hands of doctors. He was going into shock as soon as I got him in here. I don't think he's ever been shot before."

"Doubtful, but from what I've heard about him, it's probably been considered by a number of people around the world." He poked at John's arm and then pulled out a wad of gauze. "Let's get you to the doc. Can you walk?"

"Yes. It's not bad, didn't hit bone. I was trying to dodge, but stay between McKay and the shooters at the same time.

"Come on," Lorne said, offering his arm. "Let's get you fixed."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, really."

"No, you're not."

"Why do you always say that? I'm still alive, therefore I'm fine."

"Come on, Shep." Lorne helped him out of the plane and across the tarmac to the waiting jeep. Techs were going over McKay's plane with a fine-tooth comb.

John relaxed that it was being checked by people he could trust. "I'm going to have to figure out who and why. Tell them to save anything they find."

"They know their job."

"I know. But someone just took a shot at a man I'm supposed to protect. I'm taking it a little more personally than usual."

"You’re his chauffeur."

"Pilot. And maybe, but when someone starts shooting, I sort of can't help it. Training and all, you know."

"Yeah yeah," Lorne said, closing the door of the Jeep once John was settled and then sprinting around to the driver's side. "Ramstein hasn't changed much since you were here last. You should be damn happy they let you land."

"I know. I was praying someone here still liked me. If I couldn't land here, I was going to try Spangdehlem. And if I couldn't land there, I was going to start hailing bases all over Europe until someone got either curious enough or pissed enough at me to let me land."

"I think they heard your determination—and the panic in your voice."

"Well, I had a man in shock possibly bleeding out in my plane."

Lorne smirked at him. "You were panicking."

John shot him a glare. "I was not panicking."

"Pan-ick-ing," Lorne teased. "Shep's not supposed to panic, but you were."

"I wasn't panicking, you ass. I was trying to stress the seriousness of the situation."

"Right," he said as they pulled up next to the medical building. Two orderlies taking a smoke break looked up as Lorne screeched to a stop. They came running over at his wave. "Gun shot victim. Take good care of him."

"I'm fine! Christ, Lorne, I'm not breakable you know. I've had a lot worse."

Lorne just waved them on and John quickly found himself on a gurney headed inside, the orderlies and doctors not listening to anything he said.

"Fine, can anyone at least tell me how the scientist I brought in is doing?"

"Just relax, sir."

"I am relaxed, I'm just worried about him. He was in and out of shock the entire flight here."

"Looks like a through and though for both. Let's get the wounds cleaned and get him stitched up. Replace the missing volume, too," said the attending doctor, the rest of the staff jumping to obey. John found himself stripped efficiently and local anesthetics were applied moments later.

He sighed to himself and gave it up. He had been in enough military infirmaries to know they would ignore everything but the injuries. He wouldn't get answers until an officer showed up to find out why he had crashed the base, and even then, he knew he would probably do more answering than asking.

In less than an hour he was dressed in scrubs and ensconced in a bed in the Air Base's infirmary. He was connected to an IV with an antibiotic and a light painkiller.

As he had tried to tell Lorne, the wounds were both pretty clean, so he hadn't expected it to take long. Now he was just wondering when the interrogation would start.

Sure enough, a Major General wandered into the infirmary a short time later, the attending nurse pointing him toward John.

John straightened as much as he could in a bed. "Sir."

"At ease, Mister Sheppard. Did I get that right?" he asked as he settled in the chair next to the bed. "That was some interesting distress call you sent out."

"Yes, and I'm sorry to crash your base, sir. I had a civilian shot and going into shock, and since I have no idea who was shooting or why, I felt it was imperative to get permission to land somewhere I felt safe."

"You got a lot of people in Munich and here up in arms."

John felt himself flush. "He'd kind of an important guy, and I had just watched him give a presentation where he was like the rock start of the science world. This guy could change the world, sir, and I can't let him die on my watch."

The General nodded. "I don't mind you crashing the Base, but you're going to have to give me a little more information on the situation."

John took a deep breath, and let himself fall back into debrief mode. It was actually surprisingly easy. He gave as much detail of the day from when they landed in Munich until he landed at the base, trying not to leave anything out.

"I'm going to need you to write everything up for the Munich police," he said once John was finished. "I'll get you a laptop tonight to get it all down if you're up for it."

"Of course, sir. Whatever you need. May I ask how McKay is doing?"

"I can find out."

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate it."

The General got up and headed away, talking quietly to the nurse on duty. They checked some files and then the General was walking back. "He's in a private room down the hall. Prognosis is good."

John slumped into the bed, relieved. He was suddenly exhausted. "Thank you, sir. If you wouldn't mind getting me that laptop, I'd like to file my report before I pass out for the night."

"It's on the way."

John nodded. "Who should I forward the report to when I'm done, sir?"

"Me. I'll make sure it gets distributed."

"Yes, sir." John gave him a small grin. "I'm afraid I don't know your name though sir, or your email address."

"Oh, I didn't introduce myself?" he said with a half-smile.

"No sir, but considering I apparently have half the country up in arms, I didn't want to call you on it. But I also don't want to not get you that report ASAP because I didn't ask."

"Major General Nathan LaGrange. I replaced the commander of the base you were more…familiar with."

John couldn't help the grimace - it snuck out before he could stop it. The former commander of the base was the one who had pressed charges against him for disobeying orders.

"I see Adam still has the same effect on people even now," LaGrange said with a smile. "Don't worry, Sheppard. Not everyone is a hardass like him."

John nodded. "I'm sorry if I offended you, though, sir. General Kalph was…the reason I was discharged. I don't deny I disobeyed orders, sir, but I can't agree with his decision to leave those men behind when there was a chance they could be saved."

"You didn't offend me, Sheppard. A lot of…bad things happened with that mission. Your part was just one of the worst. I'm sorry it had to come to it."

John grinned. "It's led me here, flying a really sweet private plane, though, sir. I could do without still being shot at, but the plane is seriously souped up."

LaGrange chuckled. "That it is—and she's in perfect shape. No damage. Seems like all the bullets hit the two of you instead."

"I would have been happier if they had all hit me. I've been shot before, but he hasn't. He's brilliant, but I get the feeling he really hasn't had to deal with the rougher parts of life, not like this."

"Doubtful. The docs ended up sedating him. He was getting agitated once they started working on him."

John chuckled. "Good." He was horrified when he couldn't stop the yawn, and flushed. "Sorry, sir."

"It's not a problem. Laptop's on the way. Rest up."

"Thank you, sir. With luck, we can be out of your hair ASAP."

LaGrange paused before he stepped away from the bed completely. "If it's any consolation, if I had been here, you'd still be in the service."

John swallowed hard. "That means a lot, sir. Thank you."

"Get some rest. I think you're going to have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

"Sir, yes sir!" John snapped as much of a salute as he could in a bed. Once the General was gone, one of the nurses brought the laptop, and he made quick work of recording everything he had reported verbally in a report and making sure it got to the General's inbox before finally letting himself pass out.

A light touch on his arm woke him at some point later.

John came awake all at once, hands reaching for a weapon before he processed where he was. Apparently being shot at had brought his battle instincts back to the front.

"Sorry, sir," said the apologetic nurse. "I was just doing a quick check. I didn't mean to wake you."

John gave her a sheepish smile. "Not a problem. How is McKay doing?"

"He's not on my rounds, so I don't have an update for you," she said with a smile. "But you'll be up and around in no time at all, so you can go and check for yourself."

He nodded. "Thanks. Do you know if the General got my report, and if he had any questions about it?"

"I don't know, sir."

"I figured, but it didn't hurt to ask. Thank you."

"Not a problem, sir," she said, marking something down in his chart. "The doctor will be around to see you soon. He'll be able to give you a better idea of when he'll spring you."

Since he was awake now, John sat up a bit and looked around. He had spent some time here when he was still enlisted, so he tried to see if anything had changed.

There had been a few renovations, but the bulk of the building looked the same—as far as he could remember. There were a few other soldiers in the infirmary. Most of them looked like they were suffering from stupid accidents or colds.

That was nice to see. At least no one here was suffering from life-threatening or life-changing injuries.

He wasn't sure if he could handle that right now.

With a sigh, he leaned back in the bed and waited for the doctor, hoping his injuries had been clean enough that he could get up and move around a bit today. He wanted to check on McKay, and see if he could wheedle a full report on anything they found when they went over the plane.

He ended up falling asleep again—a light doze—and waking when he felt someone hovering nearby. The man was in a white doctor's coat and was smiling down at him. "Aye. There ye are. How are ye feeling?"

John smiled. "Not bad. They were clean wounds, so they don't hurt too much. And I heal pretty fast. How is Doctor McKay doing?"

"Fine. Whining like a baby, but that's normal for him," he said with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. "Let me have a look at ye if ye donna mind."

John blinked. "You know McKay? And sure, Doc, whatever you need."

"Aye. I'm his personal doctor, Carson Beckett, at your service. The folks here were nice enough to call me in as soon as they saw his emergency contact information in his wallet. They flew me in last night."

John relaxed, smiling. Yet another reason he was glad he had chosen to try to land here first. "Good. That probably makes it easier for him, too."

"Aye, I guess. He's a big baby when it comes to any kind of injury. You should hear him when he gets a hangnail," Beckett said, rolling his eyes. He gestured for John to sit up. "Let's get you up and see what the damage is."

"So, not that I'm complaining or anything, but I'm surprised you're here with me and not with him. I figured one of the base doctors would take my case until I was ready for release."

"I'm not exactly busy, am I?"

John chuckled. "I hadn't thought of it that way. Like I said, not complaining, I was just surprised since you're McKay's personal doctor, and not a base MD required to treat anyone who comes in the door."

"And you're an employee of McKay Enterprises…or so I was told." He narrowed his eyes at John. "You are Rodney's pilot, right?"

John chuckled. "Yes, I'm his pilot. You treat all his employees too? I thought he had a pretty big company?"

"Aye, I treat some of them. Usually the ones on the Isle of Man. I go back and forth between there and Scotland. It's a short trip."

John nodded. "I'll be based there, too. McKay set me up in a condo there for when he doesn't need me. If you ever need a pilot to ferry you and McKay approves it, just let me know and I'll come get you. I'll take pretty much any excuse to get in the air."

"Aye, I'll do that. Now, how about we stop your jabbering and you let me examine you?"

Laughing, John took the hint and shut up so the Doctor could do his job.

Beckett was thorough but very careful at the same time. He had a light touch and seemed honestly concerned about him—and how much he was hurting John as he examined the wounds. No wonder why McKay liked him. He probably was very good at handling McKay with kid gloves.

When he was done, John gave him a hopeful look. "I know I'm not ready for a full release, but I can I get permission to get out of bed and move around a bit? I'd like to check on McKay myself."

"Aye. I want you to walk a little, make sure there's no issues with the leg, but you need to take it easy."

"I will. I won't go try to jog or anything just yet." John grinned.

"You better not or else you'll find yourself back in this bed so fast your head'll spin."

"I believe it." John sat up. "Can I get up now? I'd really prefer to use the restroom rather than do my business in bed. I always hate that part of being bed-bound."

Beckett chuckled. "Aye. That's never fun. You can do a quick sponging if ye like. I'll get you a new set of scrubs. No shower yet."

"Yes, sir."

"Get on with you," he said, shooing John toward the bathroom. "I'll knock to give you scrubs in a few minutes—once I find out where they hide them here."

John didn't wait for him to change his mind. He relieved himself, and then used a sponge he found in the cabinet to wash down his body as much as possible.

There was a gentle knock at the door and John retrieved the scrubs and boxers Beckett brought him, finishing up a few minutes later.

He wandered back out, feeling much better. A shower would rock, but for now, this was ten times better.

Beckett was hovering nearby, chatting up one of the young nurses.

John headed that direction, wondering if Lorne would stop by so he could get more information on the plane.

"Aye, there you are," Beckett said as soon as he caught sight of John. "You ready for a wee bit of a walk?"

"Oh yeah. I don't suppose said walk will include seeing McKay and checking on the plane?"

"Outside is not an option right now, but I can take you to see Rodney."

"I'll take it."

Beckett laughed easily. "Aye. Thought you might. Come on," he said to John, and then excusing himself from the nurse.

The walk wasn't long, and John could hear McKay before they even got there.

"It hurts! There's a hole the size of the Holland Tunnel in my arm! You're a sadistic bastard who won't give me the pain medication I rightly deserve!"

"Now, Rodney, you know the nurses won't give you medication unless I approve it."

"You!" McKay turned his head, honing in on the doctor. "It's all your fault!"

John waved. "Nice to see you too, McKay. How's the arm?"

McKay's gaze shifted to John. "It hurts like a motherfucker and this…bastard won't give me painkillers!"

John looked at his arm, moving closer to see the wound. "It looks like it was a pretty clean shot, so it should heal pretty fast."

"I don't care! It shouldn't have happened in the first place and now the sadistic doctor here won't do anything about the excruciating pain. Torquemada has nothing on him."

"It could be worse. If I hadn't seen the glint of sunlight hitting the gun and reacted, you could be dead."

McKay swallowed whatever he was going to say and John saw the blood draining out of his face.

He felt bad then. "Hey, but it didn't happen that way, right? We got out of there, no one is dead, and I'm going to find out who was shooting at you and why, and made sure it doesn't happen again."

"Right," Beckett said moving in smoothly and fluffing McKay's pillows. "Why don't we see about upping that pain medication a wee bit and let you get settled, aye?"

John felt like he had killed someone's puppy. So he spent the next hour baiting McKay back to where he had been before.

But no matter how hard he tried, McKay wasn't biting. He responded to John's questions, talked with him, but John could tell that his big brain was still whirling with the realization that he had nearly met his end.

Finally, Beckett decided McKay needed to rest, so John wandered back out into the hall.

"He'll be fine," Beckett said quietly. "I'd like to move him home in the next day or so. He'll do better there."

John nodded. "As soon as I can get clearance from you to leave the infirmary, I'll start working on clearance to take off and head back. Do you know who his director of security is? I'm surprised he's not here seeing to McKay's safety for the trip home. His client was almost killed."

Beckett shook his head a shrugged. "David or Daemon or something. I’m not sure. I've never met the man."

John sighed. "McKay's director of security sucks. He should be at the very least vetting everyone McKay comes in direct contact with, and running pretty extensive background checks on everyone else. But I've never even see the guy, and now his client was just shot at, and he's not even checking in or calling to inform me of security protocols. McKay needs to fire him and hire a real director of security."

"He's never had any issues before, so it's obviously not been an issue."

"Just because nothing has happened yet, doesn't mean it won't. And he just fired his last secretary because she was a corporate spy stealing secrets. And then he had another random girl by the next day whose name he doesn't even know. That's just… bad security."

"Aye, that's Rodney. Goes for the looks and not the brains in many cases."

"Which is fine, he's entitled, but they should still have a background check."

"As smart as Rodney is, about some things he's a dense as a brick." Beckett shrugged. "So you're his new hire, I take it. Should I be worried about you?"

John grinned. "That's a trick question. If I say no, that would sound sort of against what I was just telling you about security, and if I say yes, you'll think I'm some sort of danger."

"I am surrounded by soldiers. I think I'm pretty safe at the moment, but I don't know if I'd want to meet ye in a dark alley," he commented with a smile, his eyes twinkling.

"Definitely not." John laughed. "I might not look it, but if someone threatens me or someone I consider mine to protect, they better watch the hell out."

"Aye, good to know, good to know," he said as they walked back into the main part of the infirmary. "Okay, you should rest a wee bit and I'm going to go and check on Rodney again, see how he's really doing."

John nodded. "Any restrictions on what I can eat? I don't think I've had anything since I stole a Danish from the green room just before McKay was done with his presentation yesterday."

"No restrictions, but I'd recommend not going over the top."

John nodded. "I'll be careful. I know to avoid anything heavy or fried or anything like that after any kind of blood loss."

"Good. I'll be back to check on you later."

John headed back into his room while Beckett went back down the hall. He flagged a nurse and asked if he could have a tray sent in, and she disappeared with his order.

The rest of the day was, frankly, boring. Beckett checked on him twice—as he'd promised—and otherwise John was left to his own devices.

He slept restlessly that night, and by the time he woke up the next morning, he was about ready to do something. He hoped Beckett would stop by early and clear him to leave the infirmary.

Unfortunately, LaGrange was his first visitor. He wandered in, talking briefly to the nurses on duty before heading directly for him. His expression was carefully neutral. "Sheppard. It's good to see you're on the mend."

This couldn't be good. John straightened in the bed as much as he could. "Yes, sir. I'm hoping the doctor will clear me today so I can get the plane checked out and McKay out of your hair."

"Your plane is all checked out, serviced, fueled, and ready to go."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."

"No need to thank me. My men are good at their jobs and efficient."

John nodded. "I assume there's some other problem then, sir? Frankly, I didn't expect to see you again while I was here."

"No, no problem, really," he said. "We're actually about ready to start an op and I need to get all the civilians off the base. Is that something you can take care of?"

John nodded. "Absolutely, sir. As long as the doctor will sign off, I can have us in the air this afternoon."

"Your…charge has been reluctant to leave the safety of the base. See that you convince him."

John blinked. "McKay doesn't want to leave? Huh, I didn't see that. I'll make sure to convince him, sir."

"See that you do," LaGrange said as he headed away.

John swung out of bed and headed for McKay's room, hoping to catch both him and Beckett at the same time.

The nurse caught him before he raised his hand to knock. "He's not in there. Doctor Beckett took him for a shower about an hour ago."

"Damn. When they return, could you tell them I need to speak with them?"

"If I see them, sure."

"It's important. Actually, I'll just go to the showers and catch them there. Thank you."

"Watch those bandages."

"I will." John headed for the showers, and he could hear Beckett and McKay before he spotted them.

"…I could just buy a section of the base. It's a perfectly reasonable proposition. The US government needs money like everyone else."

"No, actually, you can't." John popped his head in, careful to keep out of the water. "General LaGrange just gave us our marching orders. We need to be off-base by this afternoon. The plane is ready, and as long as Doctor Beckett doesn't object, I can have us in the air as soon as you're ready to go."

"What!" McKay squawked, trying to cover himself up with one hand. "Get out of here! I'm showering!"

John rolled his eyes. "Whatever. The point is that an operation is slated to begin, but they can't as long as there are civilians on base, which means us. So we need to get in the air as soon as possible. We can go back to your estate on the Isle of Man, or I can take you somewhere else, but you'll need to make a decision."

"No. I’m staying here where no one is shooting at me."

"You can't stay here, McKay, or they will start shooting at you." John softened. "Look, they caught me off-guard last time because I wasn't expecting it. But I won't let anyone take a shot at you again."

"Just…get out of my shower."

John nodded. "Okay, but I need to know you'll be ready to go in a few hours."

"Get out of my shower!"

John sighed and headed out, hoping Beckett could talk some sense into him.

The doctor found him a short time later, carrying a set of standard issue BDUs. "Sorry for the severe lack of civilian clothing," he said with an apologetic shrug. "I assume you still have your shoes?"

"I don't mind BDUs. I lived in them most of my life." John took the clothes and set them on the bed. My shoes are somewhere. I can find them. How is McKay doing?"

"Fine. The daft bugger will be wherever you need him to be. I have no issue with sedating his ass."

John smiled. "I can understand where he's coming from. Here he knows it's safe, but out there, he doesn't. Tell him to call his security team and have them meet us wherever he wants to go, and they can come up with a plan for keeping him safe. I can even give him some points to make sure he hits on with them if he'd like."

"Let's get him back into familiar surroundings and he'll be fine. Then he can think about planning."

"Whatever you say, Doc." John had pulled on his BDUs while they talked. "Can I go ahead and get the plane preflighted? And does McKay know where he wants to go?"

"I've cleared you, so you just need to figure out your side of things. And home, I imagine."

"All right. One of the airmen can bring you both to the plane when you're ready to go. I'll head there now and start pre-flight prep."

"Aye. I'll get the grouchy bastard to the plane," Beckett said with a smile, already heading off.

John found his shoes under the bed, and since he had been cleared, he went looking for someone who could give him a ride to the plane.

What he found, instead, was Lorne lounging on the front bumper of a Jeep just outside the infirmary building. "Going somewhere?"

"I shouldn't have worried." John laughed. "Care to give an old pilot a lift?"

"Old pilot…" Lorne chuckled. "I can see the gray hair amid that mess on your head, so I guess old might be right."

John made a face at him. "You're the same age I am, so I wouldn't go saying it too loud if I were you."

"You have a few years on me, old man."

John snorted, swinging into the passenger side of the Jeep. "Just keep telling yourself that. You only hope you look this good two years from now."

"I guess the General convinced McKay to leave," he said, changing the subject as he started up the Jeep and pulling away.

"No, I don't think he's happy about it, but his doctor has threatened to sedate him if he doesn't come quietly. I can't blame the guy. He's never been shot at before, and we still don't know who did it or why."

Lorne chuckled, rolling his eyes. "I guess that's to be expected—the demands and whatnot. He's his own boss. People are supposed to jump when he says so."

"Exactly. I doubt he's ever not been in complete control."

"Should be an interesting reality check for him, eh?"

"As long as he stops panicking and actually moves forward. He strikes me as the panic now and ask questions later type."

"I see him as the panic always type," Lorne said with a shrug, the hangers already coming into view. "But then, civilian life is a whole different ball of wax."

"Yeah, it really is." John sighed. He had to wonder how things would have been different if he had been serving under LaGrange at the time he disobeyed orders. Hell, LaGrange didn't strike him as the type to give orders John would have had to disobey in the first place.

"So, the techs have been over the plane. No damage whatsoever so you're good to go," he said as the plane came into view. It was out of the hanger and it looked like it was fully prepped.

"Which is good and bad. I was hoping there would be something to do an analysis on. As it is, we're completely in the dark about who they were."

"I'm sure it's someone he knows. Rival scientist or something," Lorne said with a shrug. He pulled up alongside the plane. "It's been good seeing you, Shep. I'm glad you landed on your feet."

"Yeah. And thanks." John shook his hand. "When you're on leave, feel free to look me up."

"I'm sure I'll see you again," he said as John climbed out, careful of his sore body.

"I can't imagine you won't. Take care of yourself, Evan."

"You, too, John. I'll be in touch." He waved and pulled off.

John sighed as he watched him go. He had to admit, he still missed this life, but it wasn't his anymore. So he turned to the plane he was in charge of now. The next hour was spent going over everything that had been done to make it ready, then preflighting and filing a flight plan.

At the tail end of his prep, John spotted a Jeep driving in his general direction. He watched it for a moment before deciding that yes it was heading toward him and the plane. He climbed out of the cockpit and headed down the stairs to the tarmac to wait for it.

McKay looked a little dazed, so he was betting Beckett had finally resorted to a sedative. He felt bad that it had come to that. "Have everything you need?"

"Aye," Beckett said, helping an unresisting McKay out of the Jeep. "If we can just get him inside and horizontal, I think we'd all be a lot happier."

"The bed is already made up in the back for him."

"Good, good," Beckett said. He quietly directly McKay up the stairs and toward the rear sleeping compartment, appearing a few minutes later at the back door of the cockpit. "He's sleeping and should remain that way for the flight. This is a nice plane. Nicer than the usual ones the service sends him."

"That's because he bought this one and tricked it out." John grinned. "Hence why he hired me as his full-time pilot. So if you're all set, I'll get us in the air. From here, it will be about an hour and a half total flight time."

"Huh, he finally spent the money on it, eh?"

"A boatload. This plane is the best on the market today, and he got every upgrade possible." John looked around fondly. "This plane rocks."

Beckett laughed. "Aye. I imagine it does. I'll just get settled. Do you need me to do anything else?"

"Nope. I'll use the intercom to let you know when we're getting close. There are drinks and snacks in the pantry area and fridge, bathroom is in the back, and if you need me for anything, just push that button." John pointed to the intercom.

"I could get used to this," Beckett commented with a smile as he headed back to the passenger area.

Smiling, John returned to the cockpit and started up the engines. "Ramstein Tower, this is McKay OneSevenTen, requesting permission for takeoff."

John received confirmation seconds later, complete with the departure runway and an expected ETA to liftoff.

He nodded to himself, and ten minutes later, he had them in the air.

 

***

 

Rodney hummed, shifting around on his prescription mattress. It was a luxurious way to wake up.

But as soon as he moved to stretch his arms above his head, pain flared in his left arm and all the memories came rushing back.

Munich.

Bullets.

Blood.

He'd been shot.

Before he could panic more about where he was and what was going on, he heard a familiar brogue.

"Ah, I see you've decided to rejoin us, lad. Welcome back. I've made a note on your charts to scale back a wee bit on the sedatives."

"Carson," he said, struggling to sit up, his bedroom coming into focus beyond his friend. "How—"

Carson was there, helping him ease up. "Careful there, lad. I don't want you to work it too much just yet."

"But how…we were still…I don't remember…" A light went on in his muddled mind. "You drugged me!"

Carson smiled. "Aye, lad. You were a wee bit upset at leaving the base, so I gave you a bit of something to help. But you took it a bit harder than you usually do. But we're back in your compound now."

"House. It's a house," he grumbled, easing back into the pillows on his king bed.

"It's a bloody compound and you know it."

"I'll give you castle, but that's it. It's just a house…one of my houses." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I told you I didn't want to leave the base. Why am I here?"

"Because you couldna stay on the base, lad. They needed us to leave because they were running operations. The only reason you were able to land there in the first place was because your pilot was stationed there at one point and still knows a lot of the people on base, according to one of the nurses."

"Why doesn't anyone listen to me? I pay your salary!"

"Because you canna always be right about everything."

"But I'm always right."

"Not in this case, lad. We couldna stay there. You had to leave."

"But I didn't want to leave!"

"You couldna stay!"

"That's no reason for disregarding my orders."

"Aye, it is."

"No. It's not." Rodney scowled at Carson.

"Aye lad. They let you land and helped you the first day, but once you were stable, they needed you to leave their base. Besides, you have your own security."

"I have one guy," Rodney said after a moment's thought. "That's not a security team."

"You might want to change that, lad. At least bring a few people on to secure things a bit."

Rodney sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the pillows. "This has never happened before. I'm a scientist—smartest in the world—but no one's ever tried to kill me before."

"Aye, I know. But now you might want to think about it. Your pilot mentioned you had some problems with corporate espionage already as well, so it's not a bad idea."

"The blonde, with the…" Rodney gestured with his one good arm and Carson nodded. "You know." He sighed. "You know how much I hate hiring people."

"So hire one person you trust, and then let them hire the rest."

"I trust you, but not to hire my staff. The house will be full of tree huggers and people just like you. And if there were more of you, the sheep on the island would protest."

"I wouldna do it anyway. I'm your friend and doctor, not a security or HR person."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "And thanks for your help in my dire time of need."

"You're very welcome." Carson grinned at him.

"Bastard."

"Aye, and that's why you don't railroad me like you do everyone else."

Rodney scowled again. "So, how long have I been back home?"

"We got back in yesterday afternoon. You were awake but not very aware last night and you ate a bit, then went back to sleep."

"I lost a day!"

"You needed the time ta heal anyway."

"A day is very valuable in my world. Things can happen! Labs can blow up if the monkeys aren't supervised." Rodney started to shove the covers to the side and climb out of bed. "I need to find out what the hell they've been up to."

"No, you need to stay in that bed. I'll let you have a computer, but you aren'a going anywhere."

"I refuse to conduct business in my underwear. And I don't want to know how I got in these clothes."

"Stop yer bellyaching, and just accept it."

"I am not bellyaching."

"Aye, you are. You're whining just to whine."

"I don't whine!"

"Aye, you do. All the time, but it's particularly bad right now."

Rodney sputtered at him, but Carson just laughed. "Fine. Have it your way, you…you sheep lover."

"Now you're just being insulting." Carson grinned at him. "Now, if you're hungry, I have some food ready for you."

Rodney considered it for a minute. "I could eat. I might be a bit…peckish."

"Well then, let me get the tray." Carson patted his leg and stuck his head out the door, returning a moment later with a tray full of all of Rodney's favorites.

He quickly dug into the food, humming and moaning at the taste. His chef, Helen, was absolutely awesome. She could cook anything and everything and make it taste amazing.

"Aye, I thought that would make you feel better."

"You should have some," he said, gesturing to the tray of food with his fork, his mouth full of food. "But not this stuff. You have to get your own."

"I already ate, so dinna worry about that."

"Right. So you're going to hire a security team for me, right?"

"No, Rodney, I'm not. You'll need to find someone you trust and have them do it."

"I trust you, therefore you will do it."

"No, Rodney, I willna. I'm your doctor, not your personnel manager." Carson patted his leg. "But you've a lot of people who work for you. I'm sure there's one whom you can trust to do it."

"I trust you." He pointed his fork at Carson.

"Aye, and that's good. But I canna be the only one you trust."

Rodney paused, thinking carefully for a long moment. "Yep, I was right. I trust you."

Carson huffed. "Still, I willna do it. I have responsibilities of my own to get back to in Scotland."

"But I’m injured. You can't go back yet."

"You've got a wee bit of an injury, aye, and I'm not leaving today. But this isna something you can just do in a day or two, Rodney. You need someone here full time."

"Of course it has to be done in a day. I can't just…wander about without someone to protect me. My brain is valuable. It has to be protected at all costs."

"Then you should get to thinking who can best do that. I'm not a warrior, lad. I'm as likely to run screaming for a situation like that as you."

"I do not…scream."

"I would, and not be ashamed of it."

"Yes, and you have an unhealthy attraction to sheep."

"So you've a lot of reasons to choose someone who is both experienced and trustworthy to protect you and handle hiring others."

"I trust you, but we've been though this already."

"Aye, we have. So you'll need to start thinking of someone else you can trust just as well."

"There's no one else," Rodney said, throwing his fork onto the half-empty tray. "I’m doomed to die in a back alley somewhere, my brilliant mind wasted. It will be a tragic day for mankind."

"What about the pilot who saved you. He seemed a nice young man, and he's already proven he's willing ta take a bullet for ye."

"Do you know he could have been Mensa? And I'm supposed to be finding him a math tutor. I would suggest Radek, but he's busy on some classified project."

Carson raised an eyebrow at him. "So you've already started to get to know him. That's more than you've been able to tell me about anyone who's worked for you, I think ever. Do you know his name, too?"

"Sheppard. I hired him. I had to check him out. He was going to be flying me across the globe, so of course he had to pass certain checks as to his piloting ability."

This time both eyebrows went up. "I dinna think you've remembered anyone's name but mine and Radek's in years, lad. I think you may have answered your own question of who you trust. It's obvious you trust Mister Sheppard already."

"No. He's a pilot."

"It's up to you, lad." Carson shrugged. "You've got to live with your decision. But if it's not him, you'll need to find someone."

"I did," he said, glaring at Carson. "But he refuses to cooperate."

"Oh?"

"You."

"And I've told you that's not going to happen."

"So you might as well start writing my death certificate now."

"Now you're just being melodramatic."

"I am not melodramatic."

"Aye, you are, lad, but those of us who care for you accept it."

Rodney snorted.

"All right then, I'd like to take a look at that arm, and then if you'd like to shower before I bandage it back up, you're welcome to."

Rodney took a whiff of his right armpit. "That might be a good idea."

Carson rolled his eyes, but his hands were gentle as he removed the bandages and examined the wound. "It's healing up nicely."

"It hurts. I might need a sling or something."

"You dinna need a sling. It will be sore for a few more days yet, but I should be able to leave tomorrow as long as nothing gets infected."

"Infected!" He pulled his arm away from Beckett, holding it close to his body.

"You arena infected. I've been keeping it clean, and you just heard me say it's looking verra good." Carson rolled his eyes. "Now go shower. You smell."

"Hey!" Rodney narrowed his eyes at his friend, insulted. "I don’t know if I like you anymore."

"Aye you do." Carson gave him a grin. "Now shoo. I'll have the room cleaned and your bedding changed while you shower."

Rodney grumbled as he climbed out of the bed, the movement making his arm throb. "Make sure you call Millie. I don't want you changing the bed. You'd short the sheets just to be annoying."

"Get on with you." Carson made a shooing motion. "Go. I'll take care of it."

Rodney carefully—and slowly—got himself cleaned up. His arm ached and he hated looking at the wound, but discovered that he just couldn't help himself. He was probably luck that it hadn't hit bone or done any real damage. What happened was traumatic enough.

He really needed to hire at least someone he could trust to protect him. Maybe a protection agency. A former police officer or something. They were trustworthy. Usually.

When he got back to his bedroom, Carson wasn't there, but the room smelled fresher, and there were new sheets on the bed.

He settled back into the bed, pleased to see his favorite laptop was within reach.

He was left alone for a little while to catch up on his email and check in with all his people.

Mille brought him a snack mid-afternoon, checking to make sure he didn't need anything else before leaving him alone once again.

It wasn't until evening that Carson showed back up. "And how are you doing, lad?"

Rodney glanced up, narrowing his eyes at his friend. "As good as can be for someone with a hole in his arm."

"You dinna have a hole in your arm anymore. Just an injury that's healing up. Which, since you're doin' so well, I'd like to head back to Scotland tomorrow."

"Hole in my arm," he repeated, emphasizing the point. "And I don't think I'm well enough for you to leave. I could get an infection."

"I'll give you a general antibiotic to take, and I can come back in a few weeks to check up on you."

"A few weeks! Oh no, you have to stay here until I'm better, completely healed.

"You'll be fine, Rodney." Carson sat on the edge of the bed. "And I've a few patients I need to get back to."

"I'm more important than any sheep farmer you might have back home."

"You're my friend, but you're not any more important as a patient than anyone else, and I have a girl who's sick and the antibiotics I left her on with my nurses aren't quite doing the job. I need to get back, Rodney, and you'll be fine."

Rodney huffed. "Fine. Leave me to die."

"You willna die. And the melodrama willna keep me here longer."

"I told you to go. My trust in you is obviously misplaced if you won't stay with me and nurse me back to health." He turned back to his laptop. He had been hacking into servers to get more information on the pilot who was going to be flying him around the globe. He wanted to make sure he would get to the places he had to go.

"Gah, you canna guilt me, Rodney, and you know it. I dinna know why you even try anymore. Now, do you want to come out of here to eat, or do you want me to send something up?"

"What do you care?" he asked without looking up.

Carson sighed. "Behaving this way willna get me to stay, but it might keep me from coming back next week. You know you're my friend, Rodney, but I canna stay here just because you're afraid. You dinna need me right now, and I have other patients who do."

"I told you to go. You've obviously made up your mind."

"Fine then. Will you let me have your pilot fly me home, or do I need to make other arrangements?"

"Do what you want."

Carson sighed, but he got up and left Rodney alone again.

Rodney ignored everything and everyone the next two days. His staff walked about him on eggshells, bringing him meals and answering questions when asked. Millie knew better than to bother him when he was in "one of his moods".

A good portion of the time he spent going over the backgrounds of his chef, his maid, and his pilot. They were people in very key positions and he had to ensure that they were all on the up-and-up.

Granted, he couldn't think of Millie as having ulterior motives, and she had worked for him for nearly ten years already, but you could never be sure about things like that. He surely hadn't been expecting to come face-to-face with his own mortality so early in his life.

He also spent a good amount of time reading the online news coverage of the shoot-out in Munich and how all of the science publications had been spinning it. Some were saying it was just a publicity stunt. Others were wondering if other scientists would be targeted as well. It really was a mix of just about every possible scenario.

He was a little surprised when the third morning he was home his bedroom door swung open unannounced and in strolled Sheppard with Millie scampering behind him, trying to stop him from entering.

"All right, you've now had a week to hide in your bedroom, but it's time to stop letting the world think you're scared to show your face."

"What are you doing?" he squawked as Sheppard pulled the covers off of him. "You have no right—"

"I'm making it my right. You got shot, but you survived it. It's time to move on with your life instead of dwelling on it. You're going to come with me to lunch, outside of this massive palace you're living in. I'll even buy."

Rodney huddled on the bed, holding a pillow in front of himself as protection. "I am not going anywhere with you…you…messy-haired…nymph."

One eyebrow went up, but Sheppard didn't stop, grabbing the pillow and tossing it aside. "You have a half hour to get showered and in something decent, otherwise, I'm just going to drag you out as you are, and you'll have to face all the questions from your colleagues as to why you smell and are in pajamas."

"Just because I know you know how to kill a man without weapons in more than three hundred different ways, doesn't mean I have to listen to you. You're acting like a crazy person!"

This time both eyebrows went up. "Hacked my full record, I see. Nevertheless, I'm not crazy, but you're starting to act like you are. I took two bullets to your one, and you don't see me hiding in a bedroom, do you?"

"Because you're a crazy insane solider person!" He scooted a few more feet away from him to the other side of the king-sized bed.

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Thirty minutes, McKay. If you try to lock me out, I'll just break down the door, and I'm driving because you suck at it. But I will let you pick the place."

"My driving is perfectly fine!"

"I rode with you, and you are a terrible driver who should never have been issued a license. But that's beside the point. I'll be back in a half hour. Be ready to go."

"I am not riding on the deathtrap you bought!"

"We're taking your car, I'm just driving it. I'll save the motorcycle for another day." Sheppard was heading back out. "Thirty minutes start now."

Hiding behind two pillows, Rodney carefully considered his options. He could actually get up and showered and changed and actually go with the crazy-haired person or he could…run down to the safe room and lock himself in.

The second definitely had possibilities.

But for some reason he could not name, he actually got up and ready. He was waiting on the edge of the bed when Sheppard strolled back in.

Sheppard's look of approval and smile made Rodney give a tentative smile back. "All right, let's go. There are a few really good lunch places in town. Do you have a favorite?"

"I never eat out."

"Sacrilege." Sheppard shot him a grin as they headed for Rodney's garage. "Then I'll take you to the place I've been going to the most. They have awesome sandwiches, and while their coffee isn't as good as what I get from Chicago, it's pretty darn close."

"There has to be no citrus. I'm very allergic to citrus," Rodney said, climbing down the stairs from his third floor bedroom.

"Don't worry. This place will accommodate special requests, and I'll even taste it for you first if you'd like to make sure there are no traces of anything you can't eat."

"My life is very valuable. My brain is priceless. I can't just be all…willy-nilly about what I do or what I eat." He sniffed. "Are you wearing Aqua Velva?"

"No, I'm not wearing Aqua Velva. You're probably smelling my aftershave."

"It smells just like Aqua Velva," he said as they finally reached the ground floor.

"How would you know what Aqua Velva smells like?" Sheppard took the keys out of Rodney's hand when he got them off the board where they were hanging and let himself into the garage.

"I know things."

"Well, you apparently don't know aftershave. I happen to use Eternity by Calvin Klein. It's not expensive, but it's not cheap aftershave either, thank you."

"Testy, aren't you?"

Sheppard grinned. "Not in the slightest. It's a beautiful day, I'm going to have lunch with an interesting guy, and my coffee shipment came in today. Life is good." He got behind the wheel of Rodney's car and started it up.

"Yes, well," Rodney said, crossing his arms over his chest, still careful about the left one. "I'm interesting?" he asked after they pulled out.

"You are, without a doubt, the most interesting person I have ever met."

"Yes, well, I am a genius. We're a dying breed, or so it seems."

"Computers are taking the role people like you used to play, but I don't think they'll ever replace them. Computers can't come up with things like your wormhole theory. They can only crunch the numbers once someone else has the idea."

"Garbage in, garbage out I always say. You have to have the brain in the first place. A computer only does what you tell it to do."

"Exactly." Sheppard shot him a grin. "So the world will always need people like you."

"Yes, well," Rodney said, not sure what else to say. He looked out the window instead, watching the scenery fly by. It was weird to sit in the front passenger seat. He was used to being in the back of a limo with a laptop on his lap.

"The restaurant isn't too far. I think you'll like it. I love the turkey sandwich special, but they have a lot of other things, too. And after lunch, we can go explore the island. I'm willing to bet you've never really done any sightseeing, have you?"

Rodney turned to Sheppard, narrowing his eyes. "Did you just…kidnap me? Okay, who ratted me out? Millie? The chef? Who?"

Sheppard grinned again. "Kidnap would imply I want something for your return and/or I have no intention of returning you. However, I'm paying for lunch, and I promise to have you home at a decent hour."

"Who was it?"

"I can't reveal my sources at this time."

"Who was it?"

"I'm not going to tell you, McKay, so you can stop asking. You needed a day out, and I'm providing it. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy yourself for a change."

"I don't need a day out."

"Yes, you do, and desperately." Sheppard shrugged. "While you are the most interesting person I've ever met, you are also the person most in need of some actual fun in his life that I've ever met."

"I do not."

"Okay, name the last time you did something just for fun, and it can't include anything work-related."

Rodney turned his head, looking out the window. "I do not have to put up with this."

The other man's laugh was low. "See? You need to loosen up. Today will be good for you. I promise, nothing strenuous or overly ambitious. Just out enjoying a nice day."

Rodney snorted, refusing to turn around.

He got another chuckle from Sheppard. A few minutes later they were pulling into what looked like a shack on the beach. "Here we are!"

"This cannot be an eating establishment. It's…about ready to blow over with a light wind," he said, gesturing toward the shack.

"The best places to eat have some character to them. Plus, we can eat out on the deck where the view of the ocean is amazing." Sheppard got out of the car, shutting the door before Rodney could lodge another protest.

He scrambled out, but didn't follow Sheppard. "I am not sitting in the sun. I burn easily and am liable to set sun stroke and sun poisoning."

"You won't be in the sun. There's a roof over the deck, it's just the sides that are open. Stop worrying and come on."

"I'm not worrying. I'm stating an obvious concern."

"Come on, McKay. Standing in the sun by the car will get you sunburnt and won't get you fed." Sheppard headed in the front door of the building.

Rodney sputtered to himself as he stood next to the car. How dare someone treat him like this. He was a very important person. He had the money to buy countries if he wanted. He did not…no one spoke to him like that.

He stormed into the restaurant—he cringed just thinking about that designation since it was so far from the truth—to find the other man already outside on the back porch. In the sun.

He stormed outside and started waving his arms. "You have no right. No one speaks to me like that!"

"Which is why you need someone to do it." Sheppard smiled and gestured toward the chair that was in the shade at the table he had chosen.

Rodney opened his mouth, but oddly enough, nothing came out. He closed it with a snap and dropped into the chair.

"Now, what do you like to eat? I can make some suggestions, and like I said, I'm getting the turkey special, but I don't know what you generally prefer. Take a look at the menu."

He stared at Sheppard for a long minute before admitting, "I eat whatever the chef makes."

"You don't have any favorites? Anything you look forward to eating?"

He shrugged, uncomfortable to show yet another weakness. "I eat because I have to and I have a condition with my blood sugar."

Sheppard shook his head. "We're going to have to change that." He flagged down one of the women hovering nearby. "Hi. My friend and I would both like the turkey sandwich special. He's highly allergic to citrus though, so if you could bring both plates free of anything with lemon or orange or anything like that in it, I'd appreciate it."

She jotted down the order and took the menus from him. "Drinks?"

"I'll have an espresso. McKay, what would you like?"

"Ah…coffee. A latte. Biggest thing you have."

Sheppard smiled as she added that to her pad and wandered off. He leaned back and swept a hand toward the ocean. "See, the view here is awesome."

Rodney squinted out past the half-rotted railing. "I'm surprised it hasn't fallen into the water yet."

"It has character. No beach hut worth going to looks new."

"The owner should be more concerned about its patrons dying after a splinter from this…place got infected."

"No one has ever died from an infected splinter. Relax. Lean back, look out over the ocean. There's not much surf here because of the location, but it's still nice to look at. If you ever have an event somewhere where they have real waves, like Hawaii, I can teach you how to surf."

"Surf! Why would I do that?" He paused, narrowing his eyes at Sheppard. "Oh right. You're the thrill seeker. I'm second-guessing hiring you now."

"I don't do it because I'm looking for cheap thrills. It's good exercise, and it's a great way to enjoy the beach. You get the sun, the sand and the water, and at the end of the day, you're pleasantly tired in all the right ways."

"So you get heat stroke, skin cancer, and there's a high-chance of drowning. Oh yes, sounds like fun," he said dryly.

"It's called living, McKay. If you wrap yourself up in a bubble, then you'll still die, but you won't have done anything interesting along the way."

"I've done plenty in my life. Life-altering research, for instance. I've changed the way scientists look at the world and the universe."

"I'm not debating that, but that's work. You can enjoy your work, but it's not the same as stopping and doing something just because you want to sometimes."

"I like working."

"But you have to do more than just work. You need hobbies. By allowing yourself to take breaks and rest a little, you'll actually be better at work, because your brain will have time to process everything better."

"I'm a genius. I do just fine."

Sheppard sighed. "I'm not saying you don't, just that you don't seem very happy doing it. You can enjoy your work, and be fulfilled by it, but if you're not happy when you're home alone in bed, then what's the point?"

Rodney looked at Sheppard oddly. "And why are we discussing this is the first place?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Because I like you, and I want to see you happy. Take me, for instance. I love to fly. I could, very easily, spend my entire life in the air. But I don't let that be my entire life. I've cultivated other interests and hobbies outside of that. And I'm happier for it. I want that for you, too."

Rodney snorted, playing with the edge of the paper napkin, his eyes fixed on the water. "Einstein made me happy." He had no idea what made him tell Sheppard that, but there it was in full living color.

"Who was Einstein?"

Rodney shot him an annoyed look. "Apart from being one of the foremost scientists in the world, Einstein was also the name of my cat. The one I had when I was younger."

"I knew who the scientist was." Sheppard smiled at him. "You like cats?"

Rodney nodded. "Always have. Sam didn't like my cat though, so I ended up giving Einstein away."

Sheppard got a fierce look on his face. "That's just wrong! Pets are like members of the family! With her gone now, though, you should get another cat."

"I guess," he said with a shrug. "I don't know why I never did once she left. Guess there was always something more important to do."

"That's just wrong. You like cats, you should have a cat."

"It's not that simple," he said as the waitress came with their coffees.

"Of course it is. You even own the plane, so the cat could travel with you."

"No. The last thing a cat wants to do is travel."

"Depends on the cat. Some of them don't mind it at all."

"Whatever. It's really immaterial."

Sheppard shrugged, but seemed content to let it drop for now. "So tell me about what else you like, other than science and cats."

"Breasts," Rodney said without hesitation.

Sheppard made a face. "Okay, I can't relate to that one at all. Nipples yes, but the rest of it is just in the way."

Rodney chuckled. "Well, you did ask."

"Explain it to me. Admittedly, I've been with women, I even tried marrying one for a very brief period to please my father, but I just never got it. I missed having another dick to play with."

"What's to explain? They're just…" he gestured with his hand. "The right handful. I mean the occasional blow-job or hand-job is not a bad thing either—especially when it's three in the morning, you're horny as hell and the only one in the room is your male lab partner. You make do."

Sheppard looked startled, but laughed. "See, I'm the opposite. I'd like nothing better than to be on my knees giving good head, but I'll fuck a woman if there's no other options."

"Any hole in a port?"

"I used to be. As I've gotten older though, I realized I'd rather be celibate than have sex just to do it. My own right hand does an adequate job for the moment."

"Any kids?"

"No, thank god. When I was with women, I was always careful to use protection. I like kids, but I'd make a really bad parent. They'd end up in therapy for their entire lives."

Rodney shuddered. "Kids are like rodents."

"So I guess that means none for you either, eh?"

"Oh god no."

"How did you end up with your ex wife? From what little I saw the day you hired me, and what you've said since, it sounds like she's something of a bitch. No offense."

"And I'm an asshole, so it worked for a while," he said, pausing to take a sip of his latte. "We met at a science conference and just hit it off."

"What broke you up, then? And feel free to tell me it's none of my business. I know I'm prying."

"It's fine. Honestly, what didn't? We argued about everything. I bought a house in Colorado to be closer to her work and she worked more than me. When things were good, they were good. The sex was good. We were good. We used to work on science projects together, but when I found she was stealing my ideas I confronted her about it. Needless to say, she thought that since we were married, what was mine was hers."

"And you disagreed. I mean seriously, how would she have felt if it had been you taking her work?"

"Apparently it was never a consideration sine I'm that much smarter than her."

Sheppard grinned. "Why was she in your hotel room that day? I take it she wanted something?"

"From what I understand, they're stuck with a problem and they want me to consult but they refuse to pay my consultation fees and they want me to sign several volumes of non-disclosure agreements."

"So they want you to work for free, and give up all rights to the work so you can't even build on it later? That doesn't sound like a good deal."

Rodney pointed at Sheppard. "My point exactly."

"Yeah, I can't imagine why they'd be surprised you would say no to that."

"Fantastic discoveries," he said, rolling his eyes. "I told them to go and screw themselves. I can easily get two million for an eight-hour day of consultation. I'm not getting paid peanuts and lose all rights to the work I produce."

He chuckled to himself. "Come to think of it, I think I still have that house in Colorado. I don't think I ever sold it."

"Wow, that's an insane amount of money. If you ever want to go to Colorado and roll around in money outside of where she works, let me know. I'd help you stage it, and the look on her face would be priceless."

"Oh, she knows how much I make, which is why she gave me such a hard time in the divorce. She liked the money I was making. She might have loved it more than me."

"Probably. It sounds like you were funding her little pet projects anyway. Now she lost both the source of her science and the funding to back it up."

"More or less. And I think she was screwing her commanding officer, too. I could never prove it, though."

Sheppard whistled. "That could get them both in trouble if you ever could. The military frowns on fraternization."

"He's a big…muckety-muck, so everyone turns a blind eye."

"What's his name?"

Rodney shrugged. "Something Irish. O'Donnell or something."

Their food arrived, and the next several minutes they spent eating. "So, what do you think?"

"About her cheating on me?"

"No, the sandwich."

"Oh, the sandwich. It's fine. I'm not dead from citrus, so that's a bonus."

"Did you think I would try to poison you or something?"

"No. If you wanted me dead, you'd just snap my neck. I know you know how."

"Five different ways as a matter of fact, but who's counting?"

Rodney snorted. "My point."

"So just enjoy your sandwich. It's the best turkey sandwich on the island."

"And probably the only turkey sandwich on the Island."

Sheppard just grinned. "It's all about perspective. If it's the only one, then by default it's the best."

Rodney rolled his eyes again. "You're still an insane crazy-haired person, you know that?"

"What is it with the hair insults?"

"It's like it has its own personality. Maybe it's sentient."

"My hair is not sentient. It's just unmanageable. I stopped trying to find something to tame it."

"It might be an alien lifeform from my alternate dimension."

"I'm pretty sure I would have noticed that."

"Maybe."

That got him another grin.

Rodney took another bite of his sandwich and grinned back. This wasn't as horrible as he'd originally anticipated. Maybe he needed to re-evaluate a few things—Sheppard included.

 

***

 

John grinned to himself as he headed to McKay’s palace complex. After lunch the other day, he had taken the other man to see the Story of Mann exhibit and made him eat ice cream on the beach and watch the sunset. By the time John had taken him home, McKay had actually been relaxed, and had even laughed a few times.  

He had been more or less chatting with McKay on the phone off and on since, and now he was headed back over to see him with a surprise. When he got there, he headed for McKay’s office, which was, fortunately, not as hard to find as his bedroom had been the other day. He knocked on the door and stuck he head in. “McKay? You busy?”

"It all depends on your definition of busy," he replied a little wearily as he looked up from his computer.

"Well, I have something that will cheer you up." John pulled the carrier he had been hiding so McKay could see it. Inside was a tiny, fluffy kitten. John had spent an hour picking just the right one that seemed to be the most comfortable with people and had even sat on John's shoulder for a while, so he hoped it would be a good traveler, too.

McKay slid his chair back. "Is it poisonous?"

John moved inside and set it on the desk so McKay could actually see what it was. "It's not poisonous."

McKay shifted, looking a little closer. His face opened up as soon as he realized what was in the carrier. "You got a cat?"

"I got you a cat." John grinned. "It's a girl, and she's already had all her shots, and she's neutered and everything, so you don't have to worry about that."

"A cat. You bought me a cat?" McKay's eyes were open wide and there was a soft smile on his face.

"After the other day, I thought you should have one in your life again. I didn't name her, since I figured you would want to. Go ahead and take her out. She's a real sweetheart." John grinned, happy to see McKay looking so pleased.

McKay's hand shook a bit as he opened the carrier, the kitten poking her head out as soon as the door swung open.

She immediately came out, and bumped Rodney's hand to get him to start petting her. As soon as he started, her purr ramped up so loud they could probably hear her in the hall.

"She's so small," he said, his voice not as strong or confident as John was used to.

"She's a baby, they said she's about six weeks old."

McKay carefully picked the cat up, nuzzling into its fur.

She purred and nestled up closer, looking like she was in cat heaven. John felt rather proud of himself. They were a perfect match.

"And she's mine?" McKay didn't look like he was going to give her up even if John said he couldn't keep her.

"She's all yours." John handed over the adoption papers and records of all her shots so McKay would have them. "I didn't know if you had a vet here already, so I had the shelter give me the names and numbers of a few people so you would have that, too."

"No, no vet. The last cat I had I was living in Colorado."

"These are the best on the Island, so we can check them all out and decide who you want to go with for her annual checkups."

McKay pulled the tabby-colored kitten close to his chest and looked up at John, his eyes a starling blue. "Thank you."

John smiled. "You're welcome. Any ideas for a name?"

He shook his head and sat back down in his office chair, the purring cat pressed in close.

"You have time to find the perfect name for her."

"I will."

The kitten climbed a bit, so she was on McKay's shoulder, her head tucked against his body. John could still hear her purring.

"I…I'm glad you're here," he said after a few minutes. He cleared his throat. "I want you to take care of something for me. I'll make sure you're compensated—obviously—but I need you to take care of this immediately."

John dropped into McKay's guest chair. "You already pay me enough, so I'll do it, but don't worry about compensating me for it or anything. What do you need?"

"I will be paying you. This is outside your current job description," McKay said, flashing John an annoyed look. He shoved a folder toward John, avoiding the cat carrier on his desk. "I want you to hire me a security detail."

John blinked. That was a surprise. He sat forward and took the folder. "Your current security sucks. Would you give me free reign to do whatever I think is necessary? Hire the people I think would be best for the jobs?"

"I have no security."

"Which is why it sucks."

"I want you to take care of it. Can you?"

"Yes. How big of a security detail do you want, and do you want them to just be personal bodyguards, or do you want a full security system in place for your organization?"

"I want you to figure that out. Whatever you think is best so I don't get killed."

John nodded. "I can do that. I'll start making some calls and get in some people you can trust."

"Good."

John flipped through the folder, which contained a list of all his current employees. He started thinking about former people he had served with who had left the service and might be interested in this kind of work.

As he was thinking, John remembered a friend who was currently living in Hawaii. He was former Navy and currently working in the police department in Honolulu. John had met him and his partner on a vacation there. He made a note to give Steve a call.

It might be hard to convince him to go private and get him away from Hawaii, but it might have some possibilities. McKay's influence could even go a long way to helping McGarrett find out who killed his parents.

John nodded to himself. "I have someone in mind as a bodyguard and head of security for you. Can I use your office phone to make a few calls? And if I need to fly to Hawaii to get him, are you okay with that?"

"Use the office down the hall," he said, his eyes entirely on the kitten.

John grinned and walked out, leaving McKay to play with his new baby. John found the office and after a quick information search on the computer he found there, he dialed Hawaii.

A familiar voice, sharp and to the point as always, answered. "McGarrett."

"Hey, Steve. It's John Sheppard."

"Hey there," he said, recognition warming up his voice. "It's been a long time."

"I know. I don't get to Hawaii as much as I'd like." John smiled. "How have you been?"

"Good, good. Busy, but that's par for the course. You been surfing lately?"

"Unfortunately, no. I was living in Chicago for a while, and now I'm on an Island, but of course, it has almost no surf at all. It's called the Isle of Man, and it's between Ireland and the UK."

"I have…no idea where that is, but you obviously didn't call out of the blue to discuss geography."

John laughed. "No, I didn't. The guy I'm working for now as a private pilot was… shot about two weeks ago now. He's scary-smart and very rich, so it's actually surprising no one had done it before now, but that's beside the point. He has absolutely no security in place at all, and I've finally convinced him to let me hire him some people. I have free reign to bring in whomever I want, and I'd like to convince you to come on as his head of security and main bodyguard."

"You know I do have a job. And, honestly, having the Governor of Hawaii as a friend is not exactly a bad gig."

"I know, but I'm hoping to lure you away from him. McKay has connections all over the world, and he pays well. Really well."

"This isn't just something I can agree to over the phone."

"I figured that. Why don't I fly in tomorrow? I'll bring a copy of the contract and we can chat about what it would entail. If his schedule allows, I'll bring McKay too so you can meet him."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah, pretty much. You busy tomorrow?" John grinned at the phone.

"Sheppard, I'm in the middle of a case. It's not like I can just up and leave."

John snorted. "I know you, and you'll probably have the case wrapped up by the time I land tomorrow. And I know it's a lot to ask. But hear me out before you say no, okay? McKay needs someone he can trust to keep him safe, and I trust you to do it."

"Sheppard, look," he said sighing. "I can't guarantee anything. If you come, we'll talk. That's all I can promise."

"That's all I ask. Thanks, Steve."

"I think I owe you a beer, so you can at least come and collect that."

John laughed. "I'll take you up on it. See you tomorrow. Tell Danny I said hi, too."

"Bring your board."

"You won't let me use one of yours?" John had nearly cracked one of Steve's boards last time, so he was grinning.

"God, no. I don’t have the kind of money to replace another one. Bring your own."

John laughed. After bantering a few more minutes, he hung up and went back to McKay's office. "How is the kitten doing?"

The kitten was pouncing on the paperwork scattered across his desk—with encouragement from McKay. "What?" he asked, looking up at John. "You're still here?"

John grinned. "Are you up for a field trip? The guy I want to bring on to lead your security team is in Hawaii. He has a job, so we'll have to lure him away."

"Hawaii."

John nodded. "He works for the Governor as part of a police team that's outside of the regular department, solving the really tough cases. He's also former Navy."

"Huh," McKay said, playing with the kitten for several more minutes before he spoke again. "I really need to do some research at the Haleakala Observatory on Maui for one of the projects I'm working on. I could talk to Jefferies about letting me use the equipment. It would be a two week trip at the very least."

John bounced on his feet. "That would be perfect. I could get in some surfing, and it would give me time to recruit Steve and let him tie up any loose ends so he could come back with us, assuming he agrees."

"Let me check my schedule," he said, his eyes fixed entirely on the cat.

John grinned. "If you don't mind, I'm going to head over to the airfield and start my pre-flight checks. It's about 19 hours to Hawaii from here, so I'd like to get in the air ASAP. If you can't go, is it all right if I take the plane and just come back in a day or two? Oh, and I picked up a few things for the kitten for the plane too, so she should be okay to travel with us."

McKay glanced up at that. "Take the plane? No. I said I had work to do there. I'm not just going to let you go for a joyride with my plane."

"I'm not going for a joyride, I'm going to recruit someone to head up your security team." John leaned down and scratched the kitten on the head, starting up another round of super purring.

"You want to go surf."

"I won't lie and say if we're there for more than a day or two I'll get some in, but that's not why I'm going."

"I said two weeks. Does the hair on your head impair your hearing?"

"Exactly. So while we're there, I'll get in some surfing." John smiled as the kitten rolled over. Her claws were sharp, but he rubbed her belly and played bear-trap anyway.

"I need to check my schedule and call Jefferies. I can't make any other plans until I do that."

"All right. I'll wait." John sat back in the guest chair. He found a pen he could use to play with the kitten, getting her to pounce and chase it.

McKay stared at him.

"What?" John looked back up.

"You can't just…sit there and play with my cat."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Shouldn’t you be…doing background checks or something?"

"Well, I already know Steve's background, as well as his partner Danny. I did checks a few years ago when I first met them." John shrugged. "And I'll wait until I convince him to sign on to choose anyone else to hire. I know he'll want to be part of that process."

"So one call and you're done?"

"Hardly. I'll want to hire more than one guy. But since I want him for head of security, I'll want his opinions on who to bring in for the other positions, and from there, I know he'll want to be part of the background checks. This is just the first step."

"So…" he shooed him away. "Go and do something else."

"Why? I like playing with the kitten." John started scratching her ears again, getting the purrs started.

McKay reached forward, grabbing the kitten from John's hands and cuddling her into his chest. "Go. Away. And leave my cat alone."

John laughed, but stood up. "Just let me know as soon as you can. It's a long flight, and I want to get out there to convince him to let me hire him for you before he has time to think of reasons he doesn't want to leave Hawaii."

"Hawaii's nice. I don't have a house there."

John nodded. "I love Hawaii, so I would totally be on board with spending as much time there as possible. That might be a good selling point for McGarrett, too. He loves living there."

"The Pacific Rim isn't exactly a wise business investment. Too many earthquakes and tsunamis and whatnot. And let's not talk about the volcanoes and the high UV exposure."

"But the sun and surf is amazing." John shrugged. "But it's not a big deal either way. I love it there, but I go where you go."

"Obviously. That's what you're paid to do."

John grinned. "I'm going to run home and pack a few things. Let me know what the plan is and I'll have the plane ready to go."

"Yeah yeah," McKay said absently, his eyes completely on the kitten.

Feeling pleased with himself, John headed back to the condo. He got his travel kit together, took a shower and stretched out on the couch with his phone on his chest to rest while he waited.

The delight on McKay's face when he realized what his gift was had been just perfect. It was as if no one had ever given the man a gift before.

John didn't know why he was so interested in getting McKay to loosen up and be happy. He knew the man was straight, even if he had admitted to accepting the occasional blowjob from someone. John had given up sex just for sex's sake a long time ago. But still…something about McKay brought out all his protective instincts, including the need to protect the man from himself.

When his phone finally did ring, it startled him out of a deep sleep.

"'Llo?"

"We'll leave first thing and will be there for a month. I have access to the observatory on Maui for that time period."

"Sweet." John sat up, blinking. "What time is first thing? I'll need to get there about an hour early to prep. And does the kitten have a name yet?"

"First thing and no. I was busy doing my job."

John snorted, knowing McKay probably spent half the day playing with her, given how attached he was already. "I'll say that means 7am then. I'll see you on the runway."

"Seven? Oh, okay. I'll let Millie know so she can pack for me."

"Have a nice night, McKay. I'll have the plane stocked with enough food for the trip as well."

"You better since it's your job." He clicked off.

John laughed softly, then made a few calls, making the arrangements to have the plane stocked and ready for him to start pre-flight checks at 6am. He padded into his office and shot Steve an email that he would be in the air all day tomorrow, so how about lunch the following day. Then he added a few more things to his overnight bag, since he would need more than two changes of clothes. He decided to just buy a new surfboard when they got there. It was easiest.

God. He was going to be in Hawaii for a month. He vaguely wondered if McKay was planning to buy a house there, too. Was probably cheaper than renting an entire hotel floor.

He missed Hawaii. He fell asleep again dreaming of good surf and getting a tan.

 

***

 

Rodney McKay had to admit Hawaii was beautiful—if you liked high UV indexes, volcanoes, the threat of dying in a horrible death from an earthquake or worse, drowning when a tsunami hit.

But the observatory…the observatory was just…stunning. The Haleakala Observatory was one best sites in the world to observe the skies. Because of its location, above the tropical inversion layer it had prime conditions and dominant clear skies. The University of Hawaii Institute for Astronomy has managed the site for more than forty years and Robert Jefferies, Professor of Physics & Astronomy and Associate Director of the facility was someone who owed Rodney.

Which made it a pleasure to cash in.

Sheppard had taken off for the day to go meet with the person he knew here and wanted to hire, and the kitten was safely ensconced back at the hotel he had rented while he decided if he wanted to buy something here.

But now…now it was all about the equations as he waited for the sun to set.

"Are you finding everything you need, Doctor McKay?" Jefferies came in from one of the side doors.

"Yes, yes. You have everything set up right, for once. Even the coffee."

"Excellent. I'm glad you approve. Have you considered my offer to teach a class here at our University?"

"I'm a little busy coming up with ground-breaking theories to teach college students. I might consider a lecture while I'm here if you can come up with a subject worth my time."

"I'll get right on that. I think they would benefit from learning from you, even as a guest lecturer."

Rodney turned in the desk chair, giving Jefferies a weird look. "You were never this nice to me before. Why now?"

"What do you mean?"

Rodney sighed. "I know I'm speaking English. You never liked me, why are you…so accommodating? I came here last minute. You had to move schedules around. I made you change a lot of things and you're not angry about it."

"Of course I'm not angry. You're an important man, Doctor McKay, and it's an honor to have you here."

"Right. Since when?"

"I've always felt this way, Doctor McKay, and I'm sorry if you thought differently. Now, is there anything I can get you?"

Rodney narrowed his eyes at the other man, trying to figure out what was wrong. He never acted this…contrite before. He shrugged it off. "No. My pilot should be back here shortly. He's bringing dinner and a friend. We'll need to use the conference room."

"Ah, you have friends coming? I'll make sure we're prepared for them then. Do not worry."

"Right." His spidey sense was still wigging out, but he had been jumping at shadows since the shooting. "Now you can just…go away."

For a brief moment it seemed like Jefferies' eyes flashed gold, but Rodney shook his head. Maybe Sheppard was right and he was working too hard lately. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

Rodney got back to work, vaguely wondering how his cat was—he still hadn't named it yet—and when Sheppard would show up. He hadn't given him a time, but he knew when Rodney liked to eat dinner. And he was trusting him not to bring him anything weird.

"Doctor McKay? Your friends have arrived. If you'll follow me?"

He glanced up, looking at the student hovering in the doorway. "Oh. They're here? Sheppard was supposed to call me when he landed." He eyed the silent phone sitting at his side.

"If you'll just follow me, please, sir. I can take you to where you need to be."

"Oh, right. Knowing Sheppard he was too busy talking about surfing and hair products." He stood, grabbed his phone, and shoved it in his pocket. "Do you know what he brought for dinner? I'm starving."

The student didn't answer, just led Rodney down a few halls. "Right through here, Doctor."

"Are you sure this is the right conference room? I wanted the one a lot closer to the room I was working in. I have some very important equations I'm working on."

"I'm sure this is where you need to be, Doctor McKay."

Rodney frowned. "I have no idea how you managed to get a job here. You are completely unhelpful."

He walked in, and paused. Instead of Sheppard and this Steve person he was supposed to be bringing with him, Jefferies was sitting in the room with another man Rodney had never seen before. Behind him, the door shut. "Ah, Doctor McKay. I'm glad you could join us. Are you hungry? I bought dinner in."

"Starving, but like I told you before, I'm meeting Sheppard and he's bringing me food." He narrowed his eyes and stood his ground near the door. "What's going on here?"

"Please, have a seat, Doctor McKay." The other man smiled slightly. "And we'll explain. I'm afraid John Sheppard won't be arriving for dinner."

"What do you mean he won't be arriving for dinner?"

Jefferies stood up and walked around the table. He put a hand on Rodney's elbow and more or less forced him to sit. "He was… detained."

"Detained? What do you mean detained?"

"We are very interested in your recent theories on alternate realities, Doctor. I'd like to hear more about them."

"Then you should have come to my presentation in Munich. I went over everything there."

"I was at your presentation in Munich, and I found it fascinating. I'd like to explore some of the theories in greater detail, however."

"Then you can make an appointment for later in the month," he said, shoving back his chair and standing. "I have other things to do right now."

"I'm afraid that's not an option at the moment, Doctor McKay. Nor was this a request. We can do this the civilized way and you can answer my questions, or we can retire somewhere more… conductive to getting answers."

He paused for a minute, narrowing his eyes at the man on the other side of the room. "Are you threatening me?"

"Threatening is such a primitive term, Doctor. I require information and I believe you are best equipped to provide it. Your research has much wider implications than you yet realize, but I intend to rectify that, and then you will work for me."

"I don't work for anyone except myself," he said, moving toward the door. "I have better things to do than answer your questions." He dug in his pocket to get his phone.

Jefferies was standing in front of the door, smirking. And he was holding what looked like a gun, but no gun Rodney had ever seen. From behind him, the other man's smirk was evident in his voice. "As I said, Doctor McKay, that wasn't a request, and I think you'll find that your phone does not work here. I've blocked all cellular signals from entering or leaving the immediate area."

"What's with the penis gun, Jefferies?"

"That is one of the things I will teach you about, Doctor." It seemed as long as the other man was speaking, Jefferies wasn't going to. "For now, all you need to know is that one shot from it will render you unable to move, and two shots from it will kill you. And your Jefferies belongs to me now. The man he was before no longer exists."

"What the hell is going on here?"

"All in time, Doctor. Admittedly, it would be much easier to simply take you as I did Jefferies, but I have found that while it allows us to access your memories, in this case, it is your power of perception I need. So I am forced to allow you to keep control of your body for the time being. However, should you choose not to cooperate, I can and will reconsider."

"Control of my body?" Rodney glanced between the two men, confused and worried. He wasn't panicking yet, but he was quickly moving in that direction. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I want absolutely nothing to do with it. I'll just leave here and go back home and forget any of this happened."

"That will not happen, Doctor. I require your knowledge and help. Had you simply come along when the men I sent to gather you in Munich arrived, this would be simpler. Your pilot, however, managed to avoid the bullet aimed at his head, and he got you out of there. That was very irritating. So I do believe we are going to adjourn to another location, as it is my understanding he will be arriving shortly. I don't know where you found him, but he is another loose end I will tie up, and then you and I are going to get to know each other much better."

It took Rodney a moment to process what the man had told him. They had been aiming at Sheppard? "What? What do you mean? He didn't do anything to you and I have no intention of getting to know you any better." He glanced at the door again, debating if he could make it around Jefferies.

"You are either useful to me, or you are not. And people who are not are…disposed of. Now, why don't you take a short nap, and when you awaken, we will be somewhere much more suitable for this conversation."

"Short nap? What?! I’m not tired and I'm definitely not going anywhere with you!"

From the door, the weird gun Jefferies was holding suddenly made a noise and…changed. Like a snake ready to strike. The man who hadn't told Rodney his name chuckled. "You are still under the impression that I ask for anything, Doctor McKay. I give orders, not suggestions."

The next thing Rodney saw was a bright flash of light. He didn't even feel his body hit the ground.

 

***

 

As he taxied the plane into the hanger back on Maui, John frowned at his cell phone. McKay's line was busy, and since he had like five lines into the phone, that never happened.

"Problem?" Steve McGarrett asked from his position in the co-pilot's seat. His partner Danny "Danno" Williams was in the back enjoying all the comforts the plane provided.

"McKay's line is busy." John's instincts were kicking in again. "That phone is never busy. Never. There are too many lines into it, and they all have call waiting to boot. At the very least it would toss me into his voicemail."

"Cell service up at the observatory isn't the best."

John shook his head. "I think we need to head there now, as fast as I can this thing parked. I have a bad feeling. That phone uses satellites. It always gets reception."

"A bad feeling? Lunch isn't sitting right?"

John was focused on crunching the numbers. It was a long drive. He was going to have to break some laws to get them there as fast as possible. "I told you someone took a shot at him a few weeks ago. This is the first time he's been out of his compound and on his own without me there to keep an eye out since then. Fuck. I shouldn't have left him alone. Something's happened."

"He's surrounded by scientists. What are they going to do?"

John shook his head. "He was going to be up in the observatory pretty much by himself. And we both know that if someone is determined to get to him, civilians won't matter."

"Are you sure you're not being paranoid? Try his phone again. No, try the observatory itself. A landline. Someone has to answer."

John tossed his phone over. "Call them for me. If you can get someone to put him on, I'll stop worrying. But if they give you any excuse, something is wrong."

McGarrett nearly dropped the phone, obviously not expecting the toss. "And how is making me call going to make a difference?" He threw John's phone back at him and picked up his own, dialing a number quickly. "Kono, I need you to patch me through to the main number at the Haleakala Observatory. No, don't ask why, just patch me through."

John got the plane into the hangar while McGarrett made the call. He did a quick shut down of all the systems while he waited tensely for the response.

Steve pulled the phone away from his ear and all John could hear was ringing. "We're up to twenty. Someone is supposed to man the phones there at all times."

John's worry spiked up another degree. "Something happened. We need to get there, fast."

Steve was already dialing again. "Kono, there's a situation at the Haleakala Observatory. I need access to a helicopter immediately. I have a pilot. I just need the bird."

Having a friend who pretty much got whatever he needed in the state of Hawaii was a nice perk. They both got up and headed off the plane, Steve bringing Danny up to speed as they walked. John glanced over. "Any chance I could borrow a gun from someone? I'm still certified in everything."

"I'll see if I can get you one, but I can't guarantee anything."

John nodded heading to the helicopter that was pointed out to him. "I'd just like to be able to shoot back if someone tries to put any more bullets into me."

"Get set up, Danno and I will be right back. Don't leave without us," he said, jogging off, his phone pressed to his ear.

John nodded. He slid into the helicopter, and for a brief moment felt a pang. He hadn't flown one since the day he had tried to rescue his men against orders. He missed flying them. While he waited, he started all the pre-flight checks, running through them quickly so he would be ready to go when his friends returned.

Steve and Danny raced back, already wearing bullet-proof vests with "Police" written across the front. And extra was tossed into the back. Steve climbed in front with him, pulling on the headset. "We have a go. Let's move."

John nodded and had them in the air moments later. With Steve's directions, he aimed the helicopter at the highest point of the island, where the observatory was located.

They touched down on the helicopter pad easily enough, the observatory looking desolated. There should be people here. He could see one in the distance, lying unmoving on the ground.

"Fuck fuck fuck." John was pilot enough to shut the chopper down completely before hopping out, but Steve and Danny had already jumped out and were over by the downed person. John joined them moments later, vest in place. "Is he alive?"

"Yeah. Unconscious, though," Danny replied as Steve scanned the area, his gun out.

John nodded. "McKay was supposed to be in the actual observatory section reserved for working scientists. We should head there first."

"The Air Force has a facility here, too. There should be a lot more people around," Danny said, handing John his back-up gun. Steve was already up and racing to the nearest building. "I don't like this one bit."

John immediately felt better having a gun in his hand. "I should never have left him alone. Fuck."

"It's a secure site," Danny said, pointing at where he wanted John to go. "There's no reason to expect problems."

John snorted, but moved to the new position, checking around the corner for signs of either civilians or bad guys.

Steve was a few feet ahead of them. He pointed to the building they were leaning against. "We need to check inside."

John nodded. He moved into place next to the door, weapon at the ready, while Danny opened it and Steve moved inside.

The sign behind the main desk proclaimed they had entered the Air Force Maui Optical Station, one of several buildings in the Observatory complex. Another body was just visible on the floor just past the desk.

They moved through the whole building, and while no one was dead, they were all unconscious. John had a very bad feeling.

"Is this from some kind of toxin?" Danny asked, sounding as worried as John felt. "You know, before we go any further we really should think about getting a hazmat team up here."

"If you want to call it in, go ahead, but I need to find McKay." Since the building was cleared, John took off at a jog for the science building.

"Sheppard, wait! Damn it," Steve yelled from behind him.

John didn't stop, but he did slow once he got to the entrance, going back into cautious mode. He didn't really want to get shot at again, or end up on the floor like everyone else in the facility seemed to have.

Steve came to a halt next to him, holding him back from rushing into the Mees Solar Observatory. "I know you're worried, but the last thing I need is one more man down. Danny's calling in back-up."

"I need to find him, Steve. If he's here, he's in there. If he's down I need to get him checked, and if he's not, then my hunch is right and he's the reason whoever was here did this."

"We're going to find him. I promise. We just need to be smart. Danny's right. If this is some kind of biological agent, we need to be careful."

John shook his head. "I don't think it is. I've been thinking, and there was no damage to the plane when they were shooting at us at all. If they wanted to kill him, they could have easily shot at the engine or fuel lines. But if they wanted him alive and whole for that stupidly big brain of his, they would be shooting to injure, not kill."

"You don't know if this is connected. This is a high profile target."

John couldn't explain why he was so sure McKay wasn't going to be in the Observatory. "Just help me clear to where he would have been. If I'm right, and he's not there, we need to get an APB out now to find him before whoever took him can get far."

"Is this the building? This is the main one, but there are several other observatories he could have been working in."

"He needed the equipment here. I was with him earlier before I came to get you, so I would know where to find him when we arrived."

Steve nodded. "Okay." He turned, gesturing to his partner what they were going to do. Then, Steve gave John the go ahead.

John moved quickly but carefully to the lab he knew McKay was planning on using while they were in Hawaii. When he got the door open, he immediately scanned the area. This was the one room where no bodies were unconscious on the floor. McKay wasn't here. "Fuck!"

"Let's clear the building, John. By the book."

John took a deep breath and nodded. It was possible McKay was in another room. By the time they had cleared down to the main entrance, the backup Danny had called for had arrived.

There was one dead body—a student from the looks of it—in the main conference room. And McKay's iPhone had been recovered from under the table—with twenty missed calls. All from John.

He needed to find McKay. Odds were good whoever had taken him hadn't gotten far yet. John needed to find him before they could get him off the island.

The back-up teams secured the remaining buildings on the summit as John, Steve, and Danny tried to sort out what their next move was. Someone was already pulling the feeds from the security cameras.

"He could be in one of the buildings we didn't check," Danny said. "There's a lot of real estate up here."

John shook his head. "If he is, it wasn't willingly. He doesn't bother with things he doesn't have a use for, and everything he needed here was in this building."

"There's two ways off this island—plane or boat. We need to get people to check both locations. We also need to determine how they got him off the summit." Danny immediately picked up his phone, stepping away to get teams to the airport and the seaport.

John nodded, staying out of the way while they did their jobs. He felt useless, and wished there was more he could do.

"He tagged?" Steve asked.

"Tagged?"

"Lojacked," Danny said, snapping his phone closed. "Steve wants to know if McKay had a chip in him to keep track of him. Some of the uppity-ups like to do that in case something like this ever happens."

John snorted. "Given his level of paranoia about people trying to track him, no. He'd constantly worry someone was using it to spy on him."

"Fine. We need to get people checking the roads leading out of here," Steve said. Another helicopter was just landing at a make-shift landing pad not far from where John touched down.

John nodded. He had already given them as complete a description of what McKay had been wearing as he could. They also had photos of him from the various articles he had published, as well as the bio page on his company website.

One of the men from the helicopter headed their way and John was surprised to recognize him. He thought Lorne was based in Germany.

Narrowing his eyes, John headed over to him. "Okay, want to tell me what the hell you're doing in Hawaii?"

"I was in the neighborhood and got the call about the issue at the AF facility. I didn't think you were here."

"Right." John shook his head. "You expect me to believe that you just so happened to be in the neighborhood when McKay is kidnapped, after just so happening to be stationed at the base where I needed to get an emergency landing because McKay was shot. I'm not stupid, Lorne. What the hell is going on?"

"McKay is missing?"

John gave his friend another hard look. He knew there was something he wasn't telling them, but John trusted him, so for the moment he let it drop. "He was kidnapped, and everyone else in the facility that we found is either dead or unconscious."

"Really?" Lorne glanced around, his eyes resting on Steve and Danny. "Sorry. I'm Major Evan Lorne with the US Air Force."

Steve and Danny both introduced themselves, and they started to give Lorne a few more details as to what the police had found so far. John moved away, trying to get his thoughts together, trying to think of anything he might have missed that could help.

"Sir," an officer called out, getting Steve's attention. "We have something."

John snapped back to attention and joined the others. "What did they find?"

"If you'll come with me." The officer led them into the Air Force building's security room, where a bank of televisions took up the entire wall. "Most of the camera feeds are down, but we did get something from one of the cameras further down the summit road.

He clicked a few buttons and up popped a view of a dark SUV heading down the mountain. "It's time-stamped from about two hours ago. Nothing since then."

"Then they can't have gotten far." John studied the car, but the windows were too dark to make out anything from the interior. "Have you run the plates?"

"They're coming up Air Force. They're probably using the one fleet vehicle they have on site here for the Air Force."

"What about earlier? Do we know how they got in?"

He shook his head. "I'm still working on the rest of the footage."

"Damn." John ran a hand through his hair. He looked at Steve and Danny. "Is there anything I can do?"

"We have the ports covered," Steve said. "They can't get off the island without going to the airport or the seaport. We'll find him. It's at least a three hour drive down the mountain."

John nodded, deflating a little. "I should go back to the hotel and check on his cat."

"We can send someone," Steve said after shooting John a weird look. "Just give the officer the details and we'll take care of it."

"Thanks. She's just a kitten, about two months old. She shouldn't be left alone for too long."

Steve got an officer's attention and John passed along all the information he needed, along with the key to the room. His friend's eyes narrowed and he gestured toward one of the conference rooms in the facility. "Let's talk, John."

Nodding, John followed him into one of the side rooms. He hoped it was because Steve had something productive for him to do other than stand around and worry.

He gestured for John to have a seat, waiting until he was seated before pulling out a chair for himself. "What's really going on here?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" he started loudly before breaking off and taking a breath. He glanced away briefly. "I mean, is this some…elaborate way to get me on board because if it is it's a shitty way to do things."

John stared at him for a long moment. "Seriously? You're asking me if I staged the kidnapping of my employer in order to hire you?"

"Yes, I'm asking because none of this," he gestured widely to the side, "is making any sense to me."

"Join the club. This is now the second time in a fucking month that someone has tried to take him, hence the whole reason I said he needs security!"

"This is…overkill for just one man."

"I agree. If I were you, I'd question Lorne. He's a friend and I trust him, but I also know the Air Force was trying to recruit McKay and he keeps turning them down. I don't think this is a new recruitment tactic on their part, but it makes me think they probably know more about who's behind this than we do."

"Lorne. The Air Force officer who just happened to be in the neighborhood."

"Yeah, that one. And who was also at the base in Germany two weeks ago after McKay and I were shot and I needed somewhere safe to land and get medical attention."

"So he's assigned to the base in Germany? Why is he here?"

"That was my question. I trust that he's not behind this, but I also think there is a lot he's not saying, and I want to know why he was in the neighborhood and just happened to respond to this call."

Steve nodded. "So tell me why you think McKay's been targeted."

John sighed. "The first incident was right after he gave a presentation on this new theory he has about using subspace to create clean, renewable power. That's why he's here now, furthering the research so he can actually create a working model to try some day. It's cutting-edge stuff, and while I can't claim to understand a quarter of it, it's an indication of how smart he is. I think someone he refused to work for decided to take matters into their own hands."

"Do you have a list of people he's said no to?"

"No. I assume he has one somewhere, but I don't have access to his files. I don't even know if his latest secretary has access to them since the last one was fired for corporate espionage."

"Corporate espionage?"

"I didn't get all the details, but he mentioned he fired her when he found her trying to steal research for someone he was competing with. That was right after I was hired."

"Shit, John. How do you end up in the middle of this?"

John laughed softly. "Your guess is as good as mine. He recruited me away from a charter service I was flying for, and from there, I've started getting to know him. He's a bit gruff and prickly, but when you get past that shield he has up, he's actually a really interesting and nice guy. You should have seen him when I gave him the kitten."

Steve sighed, tapping his fingers against the table. Before he could say anything else, Danny walked in. "We found the SUV. The Air Force finally turned on their GPS tracker. It was dumped near the airport."

John sucked in a breath. "Do they have any flights outbound that left in the last few hours?"

"We're checking on that right now," Danny said. "Can you get us back there?"

John stood up. "Let's go."

As he was running through the pre-flight—Steve, Danny, and Evan jumped in with him. The second copter was also gearing up, two teams jamming into the larger military helicopter. Vaguely John realized that depending on when the car was dumped he could have just missed McKay at the airport. If he wasn't there any longer…

A second thought occurred to him. What if they decided to use McKay's own plane to get him off the island.

John growled. He needed to get back there ASAP. He was in the air before the other helicopter, pushing the craft to its top speed to get back there as fast as possible. In the back of his head, he started to try to run through if there might be a way to use the black box frequency to track the plane if they had taken it.

As a habit, he always looked to see what the frequency was when he got into a new craft, but it was a habit he had picked up in Black Ops, and not something most pilots would look for or think about, so it might be a way to find them.

"Careful there," Steve said, sending him concerned looked. "You should warn us when you're going to take off like a shot."

John ignored him, focusing on getting back to the airport. "I need clearance to land near where I put McKay's plane in the hangar. If they don't have one parked there, odds are good they would try to use his."

"So you were part of the plan?"

"What plan?" John glanced at him. "Are you back to accusing me of staging this? I thought we had gotten past that."

"No," Steve said, sounding frustrated. "You bringing the plane back to meet McKay had to be part of their plan. It's perfect, really. They know when you were scheduled to be back and it gave them a nearly six-hour window once you touched down—by the time you drove back and forth."

John felt himself pale. "Christ. You're right. They had to have known where he would be and when. This was a pretty last minute trip, so there can't be that many people who knew. Me and him, obviously, but probably his secretary since he relies on her to keep his schedule straight and the guy who runs the place and was giving McKay access would have had a rough idea since he knew when I dropped him off and about when I was due back."

"Who was that?"

"I think McKay said his name was Jefferies."

"Danny, check on that," Steve said, getting a quick confirmation from his partner. Less than five minutes later, he had an answer.

"Jefferies runs the Observatory, but was not among those found on the ground. He's MIA."

"Do we have any idea as to whether he would be in on the plot, or another victim?"

"No idea," Danny said over the headset. "Teams have an APB out on him too."

John nodded. "From what McKay had said, I got the impression they weren't really friendly, but at the same time, they needed each other so they played nice. Well, Jefferies played nice. McKay is infamous for just saying what he thinks, good or bad, and it sort of comes off as asshole until you get to know him."

The airport came into view a few seconds later as he rounded the last turn. Steve indicated that he had clearance for landing.

Nodding, John buzzed the airport first, looking for any signs of someone getting ready to take off before landing near the hangars.

The regional airport was quiet—thankfully—and John quickly settled them near the hanger he'd parked McKay's plane. Everything looked the same and he could see the plane was still there.

That was both a relief and one more thing to worry about. If they hadn't taken McKay's plane, that meant they had their own.

As soon as they touched down, Steve was out of the helicopter, Danny and Evan not far behind. He needed to shut everything down before he could get out and it didn't happen fast enough.

Once he had things shut down safely, he jogged over to where the others had gathered near the hangar.

"I don't see anything," Steve said quietly. "Looks the same as when we arrived."

John let his eye roam over the plane. "No, it's not." He tensed. The wheel locks are disengaged."

"Okay. Stay alert everyone. John, I want you to take the plane. I'll cover you."

Nodding, John moved forward, keeping his eye on the plane. The door was cracked, so it hadn't been sealed for flight. And he knew for a fact he closed it, so someone was here.

He gestured to Steve, making sure he saw the same thing John had. He nodded and silently waved John forward. Danny and Evan were clearing the hanger.

John moved up the stairs and nudged the door open, looking into the immediate area and not seeing anyone. He moved farther in and toward the cockpit, wanting to check there first. Behind him, he felt Steve move in and face to cover him from the other way.

The cockpit was in disarray—defiantly not how he'd left it. It was Steve's call from the back of the plane that got him moving. Steve was kneeling on the bed in the back next to a prone figure. He had his knife out and his other hand held a recently cut set of military flex cuffs.

On the bed, McKay was unconscious, like the people in the observatory had been. Cursing, John moved closer, checking for a pulse.

It was strong and constant. "Unconscious like the rest of them. What did you find?"

"The cockpit looks like someone who's not familiar with this particular aircraft tried to figure it out in a hurry. It's a mess, but no one there. I didn't touch anything in case your guys can lift any fingerprints. I know mine will be all over it already, but I didn't want to smudge anything new if they left something."

"Good," he said with a nod. "Stay with him." He disappeared down the stairs and out of the plane seconds later.

John set his gun aside and eased onto the bed next to the prone man. He sighed. "You are seriously never allowed to go anywhere by yourself ever again."

McKay was going to be the death of him—that much was certain.

John let out a breath. He was suddenly exhausted. Damn.

And he still had to get the cat. Double damn.

 

***

 

Rodney work with a start, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hey, buddy. Welcome back to the land of the living."

He wrenched his eyes open, his body automatically moving away from the voice, his brain in panic mode.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe." Sheppard. He recognized the voice. "We found you tied up and unconscious on the plane. It looks like they were getting ready to take off when we landed here coming after you. The police are still trying to figure out who they are and where they went."

He shifted, trying to focus his eyes. Sure enough, the spiky-haired pilot was sitting on the edge of the bed. Rodney rubbed his wrists. "They said…" he started, clearing his throat. "They said they did something to you."

He blinked. "To me? Other than worry me sick when I first couldn't get you on the phone, and then found you kidnapped, they didn't do anything to me. I'm fine. Didn't even get shot this time."

"That's good," he said, his racing pulse starting to slow. "They wanted…wanted me to do something for them."

"What did they want?" Sheppard shifted closer. "Actually, hold that thought. I'm going to get Steve, my friend I was trying to hire to protect you, in here to ask a few questions if you don't mind. He's on the police force here, and is leading the investigation into who took you. So the more details you can give him, the better, if you're up for it. I want these guys caught."

"I…ah…" God. He was shaking. "Can you give me a few minutes? Should clean up first."

"Of course." Sheppard gave him a soft smile. "We're back at the hotel. You've been out for about twelve hours, as best we can determine. The kitten is in the other room, too. She's been trying to get in here, but I was keeping her out until you woke up."

"I need to shower." It was one of the only things on his mind. He just needed to get clean. Who knew what had happened to him in twelve hours…what they had done.

"I'll keep everyone out until you're ready. You were only in their hands for maybe four hours, tops. So for most of it, you've been here, if that helps at all."

"No, it doesn't help! I was kidnapped from a secure scientific institution!"

Sheppard signed. "I know. And I hate that I let it happen. You are seriously not allowed to go anywhere without at least one bodyguard."

There was a knock at the door and a hair-haired man poked his head in. "Everything all right in here?"

John nodded. "Doctor McKay just woke up, and wants to get a shower. When he's cleaned up a bit, he'll give a statement to the police and answer questions."

"Ah…actually we'll need the crime scene unit to check him over before he showers."

"What! What crime scene unit!"

Sheppard sighed. "Is that really necessary? He's been through a lot. You could take his clothes and have them check those, couldn't you?"

The man made a face. "Would you settle for that if you were in my place?"

"No, but I also know if I were in his place, my skin would be crawling."

"We'll be quick."

Sheppard sighed and looked over at Rodney. "This is Steve, by the way. He's your new chief of security if we can convince him to come to the dark side."

Rodney eyed him. He was pretty—in a rough and tumble way. Great. More eye candy. "Stripping for a stranger is not exactly what I had in mind when I came to Hawaii."

Sheppard gave him a half-hearted grin. "So you'll strip for people you know in Hawaii?"

"Asshole."

"I could come back with an obscene and witty response to that, but I'll spare you." Sheppard chuckled. "Steve, the faster we get this done, the better. Save anything that can wait a bit longer until he's had time to shower and change though.

"I know how to do my job, Sheppard," Steve said a little sharply. He gestured for someone to come forward and another man appeared, complete with a crime scene investigator jacket on and a metal briefcase.

"I wasn't saying you don't. Just being overprotective, I guess." Sheppard moved to the side to let the other man in. The kitten chose that moment to come bounding through the door and straight onto the bed. She was bumping up against Rodney's knee and purring before anyone could react.

Rodney gave her a quick pat before he picked her up and handed her to Sheppard. "Take her out of here. I don't want anyone in here unless they have to be. And that includes you."

Sheppard took the kitten, who was protesting now, and nodded. "Just holler if you need anything."

Sheppard closed the door behind him, leaving Rodney with Steve and the crime scene tech. He sighed and climbed to his feet. "Where do you want me?"

"This won't take long, Doctor." Steve smiled at him. "You don't even have to strip completely. Just down to your boxers, if you don't mind, and hand each piece of clothing to Nick here, who will bag and label it for testing."

Rodney sighed as he walked to the center of the room. "Right." He started unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it off and handing it over. "Shoes, too?"

"Yes, please, sir." Nick, the tech, gave him an encouraging smile. Once Rodney was down to his boxers, Nick ran a few cotton swabs over Rodney's hands, feet, the insides of his thighs, the back of his neck, and along both arms. "All right, sir, you're good to shower now if you'd like."

"I very much would like," he said tightly.

"We're all done. I'll send these samples for analysis along with your clothes. Thank you, sir." He slipped out the door.

Steve hovered, watching him carefully. "What?"

"Do you have any idea why someone would go to this much trouble to get you? I know you're going to answer questions later, but this just doesn't make sense to me. They did something—we still can't figure out what—to knock out more than 50 people, including you."

"They had a weird…penis ray gun," he said, closing his eyes. "I remember a bright white light and then nothing. I woke up here."

Steve nodded. "That's similar to what the others who could remember anything have said. Go shower, doctor. I have more questions, but they can wait a few more minutes. If you could try to think of as many details as possible, though, that would help. And also, I'd like to have you sit with a forensic artist to get a sketch of the gun, and of any faces you can remember."

"Jefferies. Jefferies set me up. He was being too damn nice. I should have known something was wrong."

Steve sucked in a breath. "He's the only one still unaccounted for. You know for sure he was part of the plot, and not another victim?"

"He was part of it."

Steve nodded. "Good. I'll get started on that angle while you get cleaned up. Thank you, doctor." He slipped out the door, leaving Rodney alone.

He looked down at himself. He'd stripped down to his boxers in front of two strangers. He'd been kidnapped. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Slowly.

He knew he was on the edge of panic. He could feel it. The shakes hadn't gone away yet.

He started from one a second time round.

He didn't know how long he stood there when suddenly someone was touching his arm. His eyes flew open to find Sheppard standing there, looking worried. "Hey, I was bringing a tray in so you would have something to eat when you got out of the shower. Are you okay?"

It took him a long moment to respond. He shook his head. "No. I don't think so."

Sheppard took his elbow and led him to the bed, getting him to sit down. "You haven't eaten in a while, and I know you said you have hypoglycemia. So why don't we start there? I brought in a few things, and it's all citrus free."

"They could…what if they did something to me?"

"They didn't have the time. From what we were able to piece together, they rushed you out of the facility, probably after stunning you. We must have passed them in the air, since I was in a helicopter by that point when I couldn't get you on your cell. We found the car they stole to leave not long after they would have abandoned it, and we found you in your plane, in the back. You were fully dressed, just had your hands tied. It looked like they were going to use it to get away, but we responded too fast, and they slipped out just before we were back on the ground at the airport."

"It's just…" His mind was spinning. All the what ifs and what could have happened pushing out all the logical reasons that he was fine and safe.

Sheppard's hand was suddenly on his face, making him turn his head to look at the other man. "I can see it in your eyes, that you're playing the 'what if' game. You can't do that, you will drive yourself crazy. Focus on the fact that you're safe now, I'm not letting you go anywhere alone ever again, and the more calm you are, the more details you'll be able to give Steve so he can find these motherfuckers and lock them away."

A glass was pushed into his hand. He looked down, recognizing the liquid as apple juice.

"Drink. Your body is shaking. Let's take care of one problem at a time. When you get your sugar levels back up, everything else won't seem as overwhelming."

"You're not the boss of me," he said.

"Right now, yes I am. Drink."

Rodney scowled, but did as he was told. He took small sips, waiting to see how it would settle before taking larger ones. He handed back the empty glass a few moments later.

"Good." He was handed a granola bar.

"I'm not hungry."

"Eat it anyway."

Rodney scowled at Sheppard but the man didn't back down. He sighed, tearing open the granola bar and taking a bite.

Sheppard gave him another glass of juice when the bar was gone, and Rodney had to admit, although not out loud, that he was feeling at least a little better now.

"Can I shower now?"

"Yes. If you're still hungry when you get out, there is some fruit and cheese here, too, along with some crackers."

Rodney nodded, making his way into the bathroom of the hotel, closing the door behind him. He wasn't nearly as shaky as he had been and the hot water felt marvelous. He stayed in there soaking for as long as he thought he could get away with before finally drying off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed back into his room to grab his clothes only to stop suddenly when he spotted Sheppard.

The other man was on his bed, and looked like he hadn't moved. In fact… he was sleeping leaned against the headboard.

"What are you doing?"

Sheppard started awake, and looked like he was reaching for something on his leg before he seemed to realize where he was. "What happened? I thought you were getting in the shower?"

"I'm out of the shower—naked I might add. You're in my room."

Sheppard's eyes widened slightly and he turned pink, and Rodney didn't miss that his eyes darted down before coming back up. "Oh. Sorry. I… must have fallen asleep. Sorry. I'll leave now."

Honestly, Rodney wasn't sure if that look was any better since his nipples had perked up from the air conditioning in the room. "Just give me a few minutes."

He saw Sheppard visibly swallow, and then turn an even darker shade of red. "Right. Leaving now. I'll just be out there." He got up and very hastily made his exit, but not before Rodney noticed the slight bulge in his pants as he darted out.

Rodney sighed. Great. Just great. The last he needed was an employee with a crush.

At least this one seemed to come with a protective instinct, which, given the current situation, wasn't a bad thing.

He pulled on clothes but decided to go barefoot. After taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he headed into main living area of the hotel suite to find several good-looking men lounging around the room. The kitten spotted him immediately and raced for him, clawing at his leg.

Everyone else, Sheppard included, looked up to see him.

He reached down and snagged the kitten, cuddling it in his arms. "So. I'm here. There had better be food and coffee before the three-ringed circus begins."

"Of course, Doctor McKay. There's both on the table over there, and take your time. When you're ready, you can start by giving us as complete an account as you can remember." Steve was leaning against one of the couches.

"Robert Jefferies is a pod person," Rodney said as he made his way to the table, pleased that it was still full. With four men in the suite besides him, you never knew. He let the kitten climb on his shoulder as he grabbed a coffee and a sandwich.

"What do you mean, a pod person?"

"For as long as I've known him he's hated my guts. He's been forced to work with me because I'm smarter than he is, but it's always grated. This time…this time he was ultra accommodating—even when I was asking for shit that I didn't need but wanted to see if he'd get me."

Steve's eyes narrowed, as did everyone else's in the room. But it seemed they were all content to let him do the talking for the moment. "Do you have any ideas why he was acting that way?"

"No," he said as he dropped down onto the couch. The cat immediately repositioned herself against his neck and the back of the couch. "People are…" He wiggled his fingers. "Mushy. I don't pay attention to most unless they can do something for me."

One of the men was taking notes as Rodney talked. "All right. What else can you remember? Was Jefferies working alone?"

"No. One of the students brought me to the conference room. I have no idea what his name was. I never asked and I didn't care. And there was another…man there. Good looking. Slick. He was the one in charge."

"Can you describe him?"

Rodney took a bite of his sandwich, stalling for a minute. He really didn't want to think about it. "Tall-ish. Dark hair. Thin." He shrugged. "He was…threatening. I was trying to get out of there more than I was paying attention to him."

One of the men Rodney didn't know narrowed his eyes at the description, but didn't say anything. "Okay. Did he say what he wanted from you?"

"Information, what else?" He rolled his eyes. "Said he liked my presentation in Munich."

Sheppard sat forward. "Munich? Did he say anything about the shooting there?"

"That you moved too damn fast for them and you should have been a headshot." Rodney swallowed visibly.

A lot of eyes widened. Steve sucked in a breath. "They were trying to kill Sheppard? Why? I thought they were after you."

"Without him there, I would have been damn easy to take."

"So they were trying to kill him so they could take you." The men all exchanged looks. "What about today? Sheppard said you told him they had done something to him?"

"Claimed that he wasn't coming, that they'd done something to make sure he wouldn't."

"Christ." Sheppard shook his head. "That just makes it even more important that we increase security around McKay. If they think they can just kill me and he's easy pickings, they'll try again. We have to make it a hell of a lot harder for them."

"I want you to kill hard and dead them so they don't come after me again. I can't…I can't do this again."

Sheppard nodded. "They aren't going to get that close again, and if they do, they're dead."

"Very, very dead."  Rodney put his sandwich plate down after he noticed it was shaking again.

"Don't worry, Doctor McKay. We're going to find them and make sure they don't bother you again." Steve took a deep breath. "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

"Jefferies had a gun…it was some kind of weird penis-shaped ray gun. He shot me with it."

The same man who had looked concerned with Rodney's description of the man now sat forward. "Fuck. If I show you a picture, could you identify it again?"

"I'm not about ready to forget it."

He nodded and stood up. "I'll be right back then. If it's what I think it is, then I'm right about who's trying to grab you."

"That would be good if someone knew something."

The man left the room, returning a few minutes later with a folder. He pulled a photo out and handed it to Rodney. "Is this the weapon?"

Rodney nodded, handing it back. "What is it?"

"Fuck." He took a deep breath. "I didn't introduce myself before, but I'm Major Evan Lorne, with the USAF. I'm afraid this just became a matter of national security. I was asked, Doctor McKay, to bring you to Colorado to our base there if we could tie any of the incidents to whom we suspect. I'm afraid this is highly classified, so you'll have to leave the rest of your staff behind." He shot an apologetic look at Sheppard.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He sighed. "Sir, you're not safe here, no matter how many people you surround yourself with. And if this person were to get his hands on you, it would be disastrous. We need to get you to a secure location. Once there, I'll do my best to get authorization to explain what's going on."

"No. Absolutely not. If you know who's after me, take care of it. I'm not changing the way I live my life because you can't deal with this problem. Take care of it."

"It's not that easy, sir."

"Make it that easy."

"I can't. Trust me, I wish I could."

He turned to Sheppard. "I'm not going with him."

Sheppard was glaring. "I agree. Lorne, you're not taking him. Every time I let him out of my sight, someone tries to make a grab for him. He doesn't leave my side for the foreseeable future."

"And if this has something to do with my ex-wife I want absolutely nothing to do with it."

Lorne made a face. "It actually is the same program she works for, sir, but this isn't her doing. We've been trying to catch this particular person for quite some time now."

"Then this conversation is over. This is your problem. Take care of it."

Lorne shook his head. "If you don't come, it's only a matter of time before he takes you."

"Am I not speaking English?" He glanced around the room. "I want nothing to do with my ex-wife or anything she's working on. This issue is the Air Force's to deal with. So, take care of it. I know you have people that do that."

"Colonel Carter isn't the entire program, sir. I understand you have bad blood with her, but I understand you also know Radek Zelenka?"

"He's a friend, yes, but that has nothing to do with anything. This is your problem. Take care of it."

"Actually, sir, this is your problem. You're the one he wants to kidnap."

"Because you've had a breech in your security. You said you know who it is and it's a high-level classified situation. Since I obviously don't have that level of clearance, this is a problem you've caused and it's your job to fix it—without me."

"As I said, it's not that simple." Lorne sighed. "If I can get clearance to bring Sheppard as well, would you come? His security clearance is actually higher than yours at the moment, so it might be doable."

"Am I not speaking English?" He looked between the men in the room. "Should I try French? Or maybe Pig Latin. Oh, I know. I'll try UK English. It sounds about the same, but it's spelled differently." He rose to his feet. "Major, I expect you to take care of this situation because this is clearly not my problem. I'm a victim here and I will not be bullied by the US government."

"We're not trying to bully you, Doctor McKay, we're trying to protect you."

"Bullshit. You are looking for a way to use my research and my genius to further your government's agenda and I will have none of it." He pointed toward the door. "Your part in this interview is over."

"I couldn't care less about your research, McKay." Lorne shook his head. "My only job is to try and keep you out of his hands, and I can't do that if you won't cooperate. Unfortunately, if he does take you, you do understand that it's very possible you'll be killed before we could recover you? This time you got lucky because Sheppard is a paranoid bastard."

"You spout so many lies, I don't know how you remember what's true and what's false anymore. I said this interview is over and I expect you to take care of the problem."

"You aren't allowing me to take care of the problem. Sheppard, can't you talk sense into him? You're both going to end up dead if he doesn't come with me, and I can't even give you any fucking information about how to stay safe unless you both sign an NDA and get briefed on the program. I swear, none of Doctor McKay's research will be included in the NDAs, and once this matter is resolved, you'll both be free to go back to your normal lives and never look back if you want."

"Bullshit," McKay snarled. "I’m going to register a complaint with my government if you don't get out. There's a good reason I don't live or work for you. Get out."

"Christ. You're going to get every god damned person in this room killed because you think this is all a ploy to recruit you. Knowing Sheppard and the fact that they're already trying to get rid of him to get to you, they'll target him first now, then come after you. Is that really what you want, McKay? You want me to walk out and in a week be in mourning because Sheppard died trying to protect you from something you could have been safe from if you weren't so stubborn?"

Rodney turned to the HPD officer. "Do I need to lodge a complaint with you to get him out of my hotel room?"

"I'm afraid he overrules us, sir. But I can try making some calls if you'd like."

Sheppard sighed. "Can you bring whoever this mystery person is to us, Lorne? I'll at least sign the NDA so I can get the intel I need to keep him safe, but I won't leave him to do it."

Rodney threw his hands in the air and headed back to his bedroom. "I give up. Call me back when he finally leaves."

He could hear them talking quietly in the room for a bit before Sheppard came back in. "He's gone. Not happy, but gone. He really is just trying to help."

"And if you haven't already figured this out for yourself, I'll repeat it. I want nothing to do with whatever the hell he does or Sam does. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but I can't leave you unprotected because of it. I've known him a long time, and I trust him. If I can get enough information to at least set up an effective security system, I'll be happy."

"Well, I don't." Rodney glanced past Sheppard. "The other ones still here?"

"Steve and his partner Danny are. They'd like to chat with you a bit more if you're up for it. Not about this incident specifically, but about the security chief job."

"I'll talk to Steve."

"Okay. In here, or do you want to come back out there?"

Rodney glanced around the bedroom. There was a small sitting area near the window. "In here. And bring me coffee while you're at it."

Sheppard gave him a small grin. "Sir, yes sir!"

Rodney rolled his eyes as he headed for a chair. He was just settling in when the lean detective wandered in.

"So, is it always this interesting around you?" He draped himself into the chair across from Rodney.

"Not usually, no. I spend most of my time yelling at the morons who work for me."

"Which would include me, if I decided to accept the offer?"

Rodney nodded. "Probably."

"So why should I do it? I mean, obviously you are in serious need of a security team, that much I can see. And after today, I can even see why John chose to call me. But what would I get out of this? I actually do like my current job."

"I pay a whole lot better."

"John didn't give me a salary range. He said the details of what you would offer would be up to you."

"If I even offer it to you in the first place." Rodney narrowed his eyes at Steve. He had actually read all the files Sheppard had put together on the man and then had done his own research. "You're obsessed with finding Wo Fat. What good would that do for me if you're not focused on the job you're getting paid to do?"

"He killed my parents. So yes, getting him locked away is important to me."

"Is that enough?"

Steve actually looked away, obviously thinking about it. "I'd like to think it will be. But I can't say I'd be sad if he forced a different outcome."

Rodney nodded. "I won't have you working for me if you can't devote yourself to your job."

"If I'm hired to do a job, I do it. I have personal issues to hunt down Wo Fat, but when I'm on a job, it gets all my attention."

"My main home is not here."

"Yes, John mentioned that. If I do leave here, it will have to be for a salary that lets me maintain my home here, however. I'm willing to live elsewhere, but I won't give up my place here."

Rodney nodded. "You and Danny…"

"What about us?"

"If I hire you, what happens with him?"

"He'll probably take over as lead of Hawaii 5-0."

"You'd leave him?"

Steve glanced over. "I wasn't aware you were looking to hire us both."

"I don't know what I plan to do. I'm…examining my options."

Steve shrugged. "If he can come, great. We work well together. But if not, and the price is right, we'll manage."

"My daily life is pretty boring. I'm not sure it will be as…glamorous as you think it will be."

"Police work isn't glamorous either, Doctor McKay. And given how abysmal your current security is, it will be a full-time job just doing checks on all your personnel and hiring and setting up new systems for whomever you hire for a good while."

"Abysmal?"

"Worse than that. I was being polite. And I've only seen the tip of it that John would allow me to see until I'm hired."

"Fine. I'm probably not allowed to leave here until your investigation is complete, so I'll let you know what I decide before I leave—whenever that is. And on your way out tell Sheppard I'm still waiting for my coffee."

Steve chuckled. "I will, but he was probably waiting for us to be done before interrupting."

"Why wait to bring me coffee? That makes no sense at all."

"Because he's polite."

Rodney huffed. "There's no need to be polite when there's coffee involved."

Steve chuckled as he rose, then narrowed his eyes on Rodney. "Look McKay, I like Sheppard. He's a nice guy. Regardless of whether or not you offer or I accept any jobs, don't break his heart. He's had it rough, and he doesn't need that on top of everything else."

"Break his heart?" His eyebrows drew closer in confusion. "I let him fly my brand new plane. I'm not going to take it away from him. It's his job."

"I wasn't talking about the plane. I know you're not into guys, but he is, and you're his type. He might talk a big game that he knows better than to fall for you, but I also know him, and he's already more into you than he should be. Don't let him fall in love with you, Doctor McKay. It will only end up with him heartbroken and you down a pilot and a damn fine employee."

Rodney waved him off. "You've got it all wrong and a bad case of verbal diarrhea."

"Which is my point exactly. You aren't attracted to him, but he's already willing to throw himself in front a bullet for you."

"Just because he likes high-risk activities, doesn't mean he's attracted to me. He just knows who's providing his house and his paycheck."

Steve shook his head. "Just don't break his heart, McKay. He's already had enough people stomp all over it." Without waiting for another reply, Steve headed back out into the main area.

Sheppard found him a few minutes later talking to himself as he stared out the window. He turned as soon as he heard him in the room. "It's about time you brought me my coffee."

"I had to have them make a fresh pot. What was there was like sludge."

"It was probably fine."

"It was disgusting. This is much better."

"Yes, yes," he said, waving him off. He took a sip and hummed appreciatively. "They leave?"

"Yeah. Steve said he'd be in touch on the investigation."

"So we have to stay here until they finish and I probably don't have access to the observatory because it's a crime scene."

"Pretty much, yes. But you still have access to all your laptops and your phone."

"If I can't use the telescope time, my time here is completely wasted."

"Sorry."

"What do you expect me to do, sit around and wait for them to tell me I can do my job?"

"You can do all the things you'd do back on Mann from your home office."

Rodney snorted. "No, I can't. And god knows what's going on there while I’m away."

Sheppard sighed. "I'm not sure what to tell you then."

The kitten wandered in, her tail in the air as he charted the course from the door to Rodney's ankles. "Apparently nothing useful. Let me guess, the plane's off limits, too."

"Yeah. I'm not even allowed near it while they go over it for fingerprints."

"Great, just great. And whose bright idea was it to come here?"

"We still might be able to hire Steve, if you like him."

"He has another agenda," Rodney said with a sigh as he sat back down in the chair. He picked up the kitten with one hand and dumped her in his lap, letting her walk around.

"He might have personal investigations, but that wouldn't stop him from doing his job."

"But his personal investigations are here, not in Mann."

"He's not getting far here. And a change of scenery would probably help him gain the perspective he needs on it. But regardless, he's a professional. He does the job he's hired for."

"And I need his undivided attention. I mean, he's not bad when it comes to eye-candy and I know he could probably do the job with both hands tied behind his back, but I question his focus."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "You don't pick a security chief based on his looks. And you're straight; you aren't supposed to notice things like that."

"I'm equal opportunity and it's not wrong to like the scenery. I have to pay for it. I might as well enjoy looking at it."

"That's not how you pick people to hire, McKay."

"Why not?"

"Because that's how you end up with secretaries stealing corporate secrets."

Rodney waved his hand at Sheppard. "Minor inconvenience."

"Security breach."

"It's my company and my money."

"You know, you're so protective of your research and worried that Lorne is trying to steal it, but then you hire people who do exactly that and you wave it off as a minor inconvenience."

Rodney turned to Sheppard, his eyes flashing. "Lorne is different. He's government and I don't trust him. It's because of them that I haven't talked to my sister in five years. And no, I'm not talking about it."

"It's not different. You have completely inconsistent policies in place."

"And the last I checked you didn't have the right to question me about them or have any say in how I run my life. And if it's not too much…trouble for you to follow a simple order, I want you out of my room right now. I'm done discussing this. Come back when you're not stupid or patronizing anymore."

Sheppard sighed, but headed out, shutting the door behind him.

Damn nosey bastard, Rodney thought to himself as he turned to the window, petting the cat in his lap. He hadn't thought about his sister in years. He hadn't let himself. But then, Sam had taken that one tie to his family away, too.

Just one more reason to hate her.

 

***

 

John stared out the window at the waves. He had been in Hawaii for more than a week now, and hadn’t had a chance to even get near the ocean, much less go surfing. Not that he would leave McKay alone after everything, but still… He sighed.

 

They hadn’t left the rooms since McKay had been recovered, and John was starting to go a little stir crazy, even if he did understand why. But with nothing resolved on any front, it didn’t look like he’d be getting a change of scenery any time soon. 

He glanced up at a knock on his door, the internal one that connected his rooms to McKay’s. McKay was still pissy with him, so John knew it wasn’t him. With a shrug, he called for whoever it was to come in.

The door opened and Steve poked his head in, looking a little…dismayed. He scooted in and closed the door behind him. He pointed toward McKay's room. "It looks like a computer store exploded in there."

"Yeah. He's been bitching that he can't get any work done, but he's barely stopped to sleep."

"Still on a tear?"

"Oh yeah. I can't go anywhere near him without being chewed out."

"I was actually surprised he let me in—given the fact that he refused to actually speak to me. He just pointed toward this door and glared until I knocked."

John shrugged. "So have a seat. This is where I've been banished for the time being."

"Not a bad place." Steve's eyes wandered across the well-appointed room.

"I suppose." John shrugged. He had grown up in places like this, and he much preferred simple and un-complicated. Unfortunately, those words had fled his vocabulary when he was hired by McKay.

"I came to give you both an update on the case, but since McKay isn't talking I figure I can report to you just as well."

"That works. He doesn't seem to care anyway."

"Oh, I'm guessing he cares more than he wants to let on, but he's burying his head in the sand." Steve took a seat on the adjacent chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Okay. We've reached a complete dead-end. Fingerprints don't exist in any database worldwide. Whatever photographic evidence we've been able to dig up has gotten us nowhere. These people don’t exist."

"That makes sense, if they're involved with a highly classified program in any way. Lorne is still trying to get me access, but so far his superiors don't think I'm the one who needs to know. They want McKay or nothing."

"We've cleared his plane, so you can leave anytime you want. We'll keep looking into it—especially because Jefferies is still missing. I'm not hopeful, honestly."

"Yeah. But at least if I can get him home, maybe he'll stop blaming me for the whole thing."

"Maybe," he said with a snort of amusement. "Do you like working for him?"

"Actually, I do. He's difficult, but not boring. And I get to fly the sweetest plane I've had access to since the Air Force."

"And get shot at."

John shrugged again.

Steve rubbed his hands together. "Look. There's been some progress made on my mother's case. I can't just…run away from it right now."

John sighed. "I was worried about that. So I need to find another security chief candidate, eh?"

"I just need more time."

"How close are you?"

"Close, I think. I just…need more time and resources."

John nodded. "Give me a call then, when you're free."

"Are you leaving right away?"

"That will be up to him. I'm just the pilot."

"Look, I know you're a civilian, but I could use your help. How about we get him set up in a secure safe house on the big island and you stay here for the rest of the time you were supposed to. You help me wrap up my case and I'll come on board. If McKay wants me."

John nodded. "If he'll agree to it, I'm game to help."

"I know I shouldn't ask you, but I'm out of resources and the rest of the Five-O team is just…swamped. Someone is putting up roadblocks every time we get new information."

John narrowed his eyes. "Who would do that? Who has access to the information other than you?"

"Someone I'm supposed to trust."

"You have suspicions?"

Steve nodded, pressing his lips in a thin line. "I think the governor knows more than she's letting on. I think she's involved. I think she…knows what happened." He chuckled humorlessly. "It's the whole keep your friends close and your enemies closer thing."

John's eyes widened. "The Governor? That's big, Steve. If she is behind it, or even knows what happened and is keeping you from it...."

"I might be out of a job in a week."

"So if we hang around another week, you'll be available, and McKay's biggest concern will be taken care of. Sounds like a plan to me."

"This might get messy in the time being, which is why I want to put McKay somewhere really safe, into a safe house only Five-O knows about."

"If Five-O knows about it, then she will to. And if she's not as trustworthy, then is it really safe?"

"No, this is something we haven’t put in writing anywhere."

"If I'm with you, I would want to know someone I can trust is with McKay. I won't leave him alone after what happened."

"I can give him protection. I promise. It might not be your typical situation, but he'll be safe."

John drummed his fingers on the chair. "All right. If he agrees to it, I'll go with it."

"How about we just don't give him a choice?"

"You've spent a week with him now. Do you really think that will fly? He questions his coffee delivery."

"So we tell him the location's been compromised. We need to move. He can't argue with that."

John looked at him. "Do you really think lying to him is a good idea? I guarantee you he would find out, and then he would never trust either of us ever again. No, while we don't have to tell him everything, we do need to tell him we need to move to a more secure location, and that I'm going to be helping you wrap something up for a few days."

"I think he micromanages everything—and it's not to his benefit."

"I don't disagree, but he has to trust us if we're going to keep him safe. In time, he'll learn that he can trust us, and won't feel the need to question everything quite as much."

Steve gestured to the door. "Fine. Your call."

John took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll be back."

"Have at it. I'm going to help myself to your coffee."

With a snort, John headed into McKay's rooms. He saw the kitten first, playing on the desk with some paper scraps. The bathroom door was closed, so John leaned against the wall to wait.

There was a flush of the toilet and a few moments McKay emerged, wiping his hands on his pants. He drew to a sudden stop as soon as he saw Sheppard. "What are you doing in here?"

"I have something I need to talk to you about."

McKay snorted and then moved past him to his bank of laptops. "And what might that be?"

"We'd like to move you to another, more secure location here on the island for a few days."

"You want me to move." McKay said it as a statement and not a question. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave John a "you've got to be kidding me" look.

John nodded. "Just for a few days, to a more secure location. After that, we can go back to Mann, or wherever you want to go."

"For a few days." McKay narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Steve has a lead on the man who killed his parents, and he wants my help. He suspects the cover-up goes pretty high, and with luck, we can clean it up and put the man responsible behind bars for good."

"He wants your help. So, what? You shove me in a hole and hope that nothing happens to me while you go and play cops and robbers? You don't even have a gun permit."

"I actually have permits to carry just about every weapon out there. But that's beside the point. I already told him I won't do it if you won't agree, since I won't leave you, even with guards, in a place like this. So if you won't go to the safe house while I help him out, I won't do it."

"What's in it for me to agree to this?"

"Well, if we take care of it, then your main concern with Steve, that he's distracted and tied to Hawaii because of his investigation, would be null. Wo Fat will be behind bars or dead, and Steve will be looking for a new project to sink all his time and attention into, making him an even better security chief candidate."

"So you help him and then I get him, if I was interested in hiring him."

"Yes." John shrugged. "He's also a friend of mine, so you'd be letting me help someone I like and respect get justice."

McKay looked at him for a long moment. "I'm not going unless there's high speed broadband."

"I have no idea. I didn't ask, to be honest. I just wanted to make sure it was a safe house off the grid, and his best people would be there to ensure no one tried anything again."

"That's my condition."

John nodded. "Let me ask." He pushed off the wall and started for the door between the rooms.

"Sheppard."

John stopped and glanced back. "Yes?"

"You trust him?"

"Yes. He's one of a very small group I can say that about. Him and his partner Danny and Lorne, are probably the only three people I would trust to watch my back, much less yours."

He made a face. "You know my thoughts about Lorne."

John shrugged. "I do. I don't know anything about the program he works for now, but I trust him, personally."

McKay made a non-committal noise. "Fine. Just make sure there's broadband."

John gave him a small smile and slipped back out. "Okay, McKay will agree to it as long as he has broadband access."

"John, you know that's not a good idea. The last thing we need is someone to find him via his porn downloads."

"That's his condition. So you'll have to figure out a way to make it secure."

Steve rubbed a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Fine. Just…let's get this done now."

"You want to move him now?"

"Yes, now. There's no reason to wait. I have an SUV and you have a plane."

"You have seen how much shit he has, right? It will take a few hours to pack it all and get it ready to move."

"Then we better start now."

 

***

 

Rodney McKay hated his life.

He was trapped in a two-bedroom bungalow with no air conditioning and the slowest internet connection on the face of the planet.

And Sheppard was off at all hours of the day and night playing cops and robbers with his new friend.

Speak of the devil. Sheppard came stumbling in as Rodney stared out the window and wondered how much longer this was going to take.

"You know, you said this would take a few days. We're going on a week and a half."

"We got him. Them." Sheppard sank down onto a stool, and Rodney noticed the blood on his clothes. "Wo Fat was working with the governor. When we finally had enough to confront her with it today, she admitted to everything. But it was a set up. Wo Fat snuck in, she thought, to kill Steve, but he killed her instead and tasered Steve, and started to plant the gun on him. But neither of them knew I was there, and I was able to stop him. It's over."

McKay blinked. "The governor of the state of Hawaii."

"Yeah. Apparently she's the one who took the hits out on Steve's parents to begin with, and has been actively obscuring things whenever he's gotten close to discovering it all these years."

He shook his head. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"You're telling me. I've been over all the evidence more times than I can count in the last few days. But when Steve finally confronted her, she confessed to everything. I have it on tape. It was all politics, and I guess his parents were interfering. And, she thought, she was having Steve taken out because he was only useful until he started to get in her way, too."

"So it's over?"

Sheppard nodded. "There was a shoot-out, and Wo Fat was killed trying to get away. But since we have video of both him and the governor—they tasered Steve first and talked about the plans before he killed her—confessing, the department didn't hold us after questioning. Steve went home to sleep and recover, and I'm doing the same."

"So I can leave this god-forsaken place in the morning?"

Sheppard nodded again. "Just let me get enough sleep to actually be able to fly, and we can leave first thing."

"As long as I know I can get on an air conditioned plane tomorrow I don't think I care what time we leave."

"Good. Let me get a shower and crash for a bit, and then we can head to the plane and get out of here."

"Crash for a bit? That doesn't sound like enough. You have to fly nineteen hours. And I would rather not crash on the way home."

"I only need a few hours and I'll be fine. We can leave in the morning. I know how much you want to get out of here, and I appreciate you letting me stay this long. A nap and some coffee, and I'll be fine."

"You will do more than have just a nap," McKay said, frowning. He pointed to the second bedroom. "You will sleep—at least eight hours."

"Yes, sir." Sheppard gave him a ghost of a grin, but Rodney could tell by the lack of snark or fight that the other man was a lot more tired than he was letting on.

"Tweddle dee and Tweedle dum are circling the property again."

"That's their job. They're checking the perimeter."

"I know. They do it all the time."

"That's why I trust this place is safe."

"They refuse to talk to me."

Sheppard shrugged. "They're here to make sure you're safe, not make friends."

"The Internet connection sucks. They don’t have cable here and they refuse to let me out of the house! I can feel my brain atrophying with the lack of mental stimulation."

"As of tomorrow, you'll be back in your own version of paradise."

"And you think it's funny, don't you?"

"Maybe." The little ghost smile made an appearance. "But I'm just paid to fly you from point A to point B, so what do I know?"

Rodney frowned.

Sheppard stood up and grimaced. "All right, let me shower and sleep so we can get out of here. Only one more day in Hell, McKay, then you're a free man, I promise."

"Until I’m back home and you and what's his face hold me prisoner in my own house."

"Not prisoner, just better security measures. Once they're in place and you get used to them, they'll be pretty invisible. That's what good security is supposed to do."

"Right." Rodney sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. This was the longest conversation he'd had in a week. "You should go to bed."

Sheppard nodded. "Unless you want me passing out here, probably. Sorry. I don't think I've slept in a few days, honestly."

"Go to bed."

"Thanks. Night, McKay."

Rodney watched him stumble off to bed, still too wired himself to sleep. He'd been doing nothing all day for ten days except lounge around the house and try to hack the internet connection to make it faster. He'd only managed to slow it down to slug-speed.

To his surprise, about an hour later, Steve came in. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he looked freshly showered. Danny, his partner, was with him.

"Are you supposed to be here?" Rodney asked, looking up from his scientific journal. He'd been making notes in the margins to pass the time.

"Probably not, but I couldn't sleep." Both men sat on the couch. "So. I suddenly find myself out of a job and a purpose. Are you still looking for a security chief?"

Rodney closed the journal slowly, clipping the pen to the cover. "Don't you have…loose ends to tie up?"

Steve snorted. "I think I took care of all those." He glanced at Danny. "I would like to bring him with me though, as a second. We work well together, and with the governor dead, Five-O is now defunct."

"So, you want me to hire both of you."

"In an ideal world, yes. You're going to need a staff, not just me, so this would be where I'd like to start if you'll let me. I assume you'll let me have a security budget, correct? Danny would be on that payroll."

"Of course you'll have a budget. I'm a quad-zillionaire, but I do watch what I spend. It'll be within limits."

"I figured." Steve shrugged. "So if we're hired, let me know when we're leaving and we'll be there."

"Sheppard says he trusts you and no one had tried to kill me in the last ten days—which I say is a good thing." He paused, looking between the two of them. "We're going to need to discuss your job description."

"If you're paying the bills, you tell me what you want. If you want good security, though, you'll let me do what I think is necessary."

"We can discuss it on the plane if you're flying with us tomorrow. Otherwise it'll be up to you to get yourself to my headquarters."

"We'll come with you. I trust Sheppard not to crash."

"As long as he gets a full night's sleep. He stumbled off to bed a few minutes ago. Oh and thanks for getting him all bloody. I hope he doesn't need those clothes."

Danny chuckled. "None of it is his. I checked."

"Better not be. I need him to fly me home."

Rodney got two eyebrow raises, but neither man commented further.

"Are either of you volunteering to be a pilot?"

Steve stood up. "We're going to crash in the other guest room, if you don't mind. If we're not up, just send Sheppard in to poke us when you're ready to go."

"I don't have another guest room. That's my room. Sheppard's in the other bedroom."

"Oh." Steve ran a hand through his hair. "Then we'll crash with Sheppard. I know he won't mind."

"Don’t wake him up!" Steve waved him off as they disappeared deeper into the house. Rodney rolled his eyes.

The security patrols checked in regularly throughout the night as Rodney worked his way through his science journal. When Sheppard finally surfaced early the next morning, Rodney was just finally winding down.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"What? No. wasn't tired." He blinked up at Sheppard. "You're up already?"

"I slept for about ten hours." Sheppard rolled his eyes. "At least you have a bedroom on the plane. And I'm assuming since Steve and Danny are currently taking up two-thirds of the bed, that they're coming with us as well?"

"Yeah. They stopped here after you went to bed. I told them they could hitch a ride with us today or else get themselves to Mann on their own."

"Good. Steve will be a good security chief, and with Dan-O as his second, they're a nearly unstoppable team."

"I said we could talk about his budget and whatnot on the plane ride home." He narrowed his eyes at the other man. "Are you sure you got enough sleep?"

"Yes, Mom." Sheppard rolled his eyes again. "Let me get something to eat and make a few cups of coffee for the flight, and I'll be ready to go."

"Just cater what you need for the plane."

"I can't exactly get up in mid-flight to wander out looking for food and coffee. If I don't bring it in with me, I don't get it. Your help is there to serve you, not me."

"Yes, you can. You have autopilot."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I can just wander away. I prefer to keep an eye on it, even when it's engaged. I pretty much just get up to piss and stretch a bit from time to time."

"You can have Steve and Danny wait on you hand and foot. Make them work."

To his surprise, Sheppard actually blushed a little, although he tried to hide it. "Yeah, I think I'll just grab something to eat and make some coffee. I'll let them know we'll be leaving soon."

Rodney sat up straighter, looking at him a little closer. "Do I even want to know what went on in that bedroom last night? At least you were quiet about it."

"Nothing happened last night, McKay. I didn't even know they were there until I woke up this morning. As soon as I was in bed, I was out."

"Right. Men don't blush for no reason. Just keep it discreet." He rose, stretching. "I'm going to take shower and pack. How long until we leave for the airport?"

"They're a couple, McKay, and exclusive. If you really want to know, I spent one night with them when we first met and they were looking for a third for a very specific reason. As far as I know, after the one time they never did it again. And I have no intention of asking."

"Right, that wasn't the question I asked. How long until we leave?"

Sheppard sighed. "Whenever you want. I can be ready in a minute or an hour. Just tell me when you want to go."

Rodney narrowed his eyes at the pilot. "I. Asked. You. Don't make me ask again."

"Fine. An hour then."

He nodded. "Fine. Next time try to answer the question asked of you." He stormed out of the living room, slamming his bedroom door behind him. Why was he so pissed about Sheppard's revelation? In all honesty, he didn't want to examine it too closely.

After quick shower, he shoved all his clothes into his bag and dragged it out into the living room to find it littered with the three men.

They all had coffee cups in their hands, and all three of them looked to be enjoying it.

"Well?" Rodney glanced pointedly at his wrist watch.

"We were just waiting for you. All the rest of the stuff is in the car already." Sheppard pushed off from the wall he had been leaning against. "So after you."

"About time someone catered to my whims," he grumbled, dragging his suitcase out to the SUV.

It was Steve who got behind the wheel, and Sheppard ended up pressed in next to Rodney in the back seat. The three of them chatted about Mann, with Sheppard lamenting the lack of real surfing.

Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and stewed. Whoever thought this was a good idea was out of his mind. Oh, right. He'd agreed to this, so this….eye-candy—and threesome images—was all his fault.

If the eye-candy noticed his mood, none of them said anything about it. At the airport, Danny went with Rodney into the plane while Steve got rid of the car and handled the luggage, and Sheppard went off to do his pilot pre-check things.

After listening to Danny ooh and ahh over the pimped out interior, Rodney threw his hands up and retreated to the back of the plane, closing the door to the rear bedroom.

After about a half hour, Sheppard's voice was over the intercom. "We have clearance to take off folks, so get settled for the ride. Time to Mann is about nineteen hours."

Rodney pulled out his laptop and hooked into the plane's wireless. He vaguely paid attention to the liftoff, deciding instead to concentrate on the equations for the space-time bridge he was building. Not only would the equations need to be right, but then he needed to build the chamber that would store the energy. That was going to take quite a feat—of which Rodney knew he was the only one in the world capable of engineering.

He had a lot of work to do and at least in his world of equations, nothing else mattered.

 

***

 

After all the excitement on Hawaii, John was finding the return to the slow life on Mann a bit difficult. He hadn't even seen Steve or Danny since they had arrived, since the two were installed in rooms at McKay's house, and had dived right in to the challenge of getting security up to par.

Even McKay had made it clear he was too busy to even talk since they had gotten back. John had a feeling he had done something wrong in McKay's eyes, but he hadn't figured out what it was yet. So, rested, fed and bored, he tried to decide what to do to pass the time.

So needless to say he was a little surprised to see a call come over his cell from the McKay house.

He grabbed it, hoping it would be someone to talk to. "Sheppard."

"McGarrett. You busy?"

"Bored as fuck. What's up?"

"Can you please talk some sense into McKay? He's more or less locked himself into his office and he refuses to talk to me about the security issues I've already found—in his network and in his personnel. I'm surprised he's not being robbed blind by his accountant, but that's probably only because he watches his money like a hawk."

"What is he refusing to do?"

"Anything! Everything! He just keeps routing me to his secretary—who I really need to fire—and he's refusing to deal with any of it. I’m about ready to say fuck it and go home."

John sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I can, although I don't know how much I'll be able to help. I think he's pissed at me for something."

"As best as I can gather, he's pissed at everything for something all the time. Maybe we need to throw him a hooker or something."

"If I thought it would work..." John sighed, ignoring the twinge of jealousy at the thought. He wasn't going to let himself fall for an irritating snarky scientist who was also his employer. And was also straight. "I'll be there in about thirty minutes."

"Good. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

John snorted. He doubted it, but it was more interesting that sitting around twiddling his thumbs. Thirty minutes later, he was pulling up at the gates.

The wide-open gates with no one on guard.

Growling, John parked his bike in the garage and went stalking Steve and Danny.

He found Helen, McKay's chef, serving a light lunch to Steve and Danny in the main dining room.

"In three days you can't even get a fucking guard on the gates?"

"No, because McKay won't talk to me," Steve shot back.

Cursing, John turned and bee-lined for McKay's office.

A yelled "good luck" drifted after him as he stormed to the far "business" wing. The blonde bimbo looked up from her desk where she was filing her nails when he walked in. "Doctor McKay isn't taking visitors."

"He doesn't get a choice." John walked right past her and into McKay's office. "McKay, where the fuck are you?"

"You can't go in there!" She yelled at him as he looked around the empty room.

"McKay!" John systematically went through the rooms, ignoring the bimbo.

He found McKay all the way in the back in his lab hunched over two laptops. He didn't even budge when John stormed in yelling.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

McKay deliberately saved whatever he was working on before even glancing up at John. "Excuse me? I thought I had left standing orders not to be disturbed."

"Steve called me because you've been ignoring him completely. What's the point of having a security chief if he can't make changes because you keep pushing everything off to bimbo in the lobby?"

McKay blinked at him, unfazed. "She's not a bimbo."

"Yes, she is. I've seen her file. She's probably a plant from a competitor looking to steal something from you."

"I told Mister McGarrett to take care of things."

"And then you tied his hands by refusing to actually look at anything he's brought to you, approve any of his plans or budgets, or pretty much do anything except tell him to talk to the bimbo who just says you aren't available."

"Because I'm not available. I'm working. I asked Mister McGarrett to do his job. I didn't think that would be too difficult since that was what you convinced me to hire him to do. Were you wrong?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "He can do the job if you'll let him. But as you'll recall, since you won't speak to any of us, there's no budget, no account he can draw on, and when he's tried to give you individual proposals so he can start on the big things, you push it to the bimbo. No one can do a job without any resources whatsoever, McKay."

McKay sighed and pushed his chair back, rising to his feet. "Do I really have to do everything?" He walked out of the suite of rooms he used for his home office, heading for the main part of the house. It was like he had a radar or something since he apparently knew exactly where Steve was.

He walked into the dining room, pausing just inside the door. He fixed Steve with a look. "Can you do this job or not?"

Steve glanced up. "Ah, he emerges, and does, in fact, speak. Yes, I can do the job. But right now you have every aspect of this organization tied to your personal signature, so I can't make any changes without you signing off on them."

"And what changes do you intend to make?"

Steve began to tick things off on his hand. "A complete overhaul of security here at your home-slash-office, including guards at the gates and a small team inside in charge of ensuring the grounds stay secure. A complete background check of every person who works for you and works directly with you in any way shape or form, or has access to high levels of your company—if they don't pass muster, they get fired and replaced with someone who does. Upgrades to your saferoom, that would include the ability to escape via another route should it be necessary. Installation of a robust security system that would completely cover the grounds, along with a team in charge of monitoring it 24/7 for any suspicious behavior. Once those were done, I would move on to the less pressing concerns."

"Saferoom? I'm highly claustrophobic. You actually think I'd get into a saferoom?"

"On a regular basis, no. However, you have something along those lines already in case of an emergency. I would upgrade it to a full safe room, complete with an emergency exit that only you and I would know where it comes out."

"No, I don't."

"Okay, the house you bought has one then. There is one, whether you put it there or not. Regardless, it wouldn't be something you would, hopefully, ever have to use. The point is to have it in case someone ever tries to break in, etc. Security works best when you have multiple layers, McKay. You start with broad strokes, like cameras on the grounds and a small team in charge of monitoring them. Then you bring in a team whose job it is to keep the house secure, in case someone gets past the first line. And so on and so forth. The saferoom would be the final line of defense, to be used if every other option failed to that point. From there, I'll also be putting in place an evacuation plan that would start as soon as you entered the saferoom and locked the doors. And there will be layers and contingencies for all those plans as well."

To John, the bluster and indifference McKay had shown for the past several days seemed to crack under the sheer weight of Steve's words. The most noticeable part was that his face seemed to lose all its color and his shoulders rounded out, slumping down. "Is it really necessary?" he asked quietly.

Steve must have noticed it too. "Look, you hired me because it's my job to think of every possible scenario, and then do everything I can think of to try and prevent it. Ninety percent of it will probably never be needed, but I wouldn't be doing my best for you if I didn't put it all in place. If I do my job right, once it's all done and working, you won't even notice it most of the time unless there's an incident, and then it will just work to keep you safe."

"Fine. Come to my office and I'll give you access to the house account," McKay turned, heading out.

Steve rose and followed him out, shooting a grateful look at John. Feeling a little deflated, John sat down next to Danny. "Why do I feel like I've just kicked his cat?"

"Because I think you did. I didn't ever think he'd actually agree to all of that. Steve threw it all in thinking he'd only allow half of it."

John scowled at him. "And in the process we've scared him shitless. No wonder he won't leave his rooms."

"He needs to know what could happen. He needs to get his head out of the sand. Look. He's done okay for himself up until now, but with everything going on it's obvious it's not enough. He might be a genius but he doesn't think strategically."

"I know, I know. That's why I wanted you guys for this job, because he needs you. But still…It makes me feel like shit to have to shatter his safe little world like this."

"His world isn't safe, no matter what he thinks."

"I know." John shook his head. "Has he named the kitten yet?"

Danny shrugged. "Who knows. This is the first time I saw him in days."

John sighed again, and waited for Steve to come back out. With luck, the house account would have the resources he needed.

It didn't take long for Steve to reappear. He slumped into a nearby chair and rubbed the back of his neck. "Can I tell you I feel like a dick for forcing his hand like that?"

"Tell me about it. I told Danny I feel like I kicked his cat."

"He just…folded. I have what I need to make some decisions, but…fuck. I don't want to do that again."

"Me neither." John ran a hand through his hair. "Ever again."

"I have what I need, which is good. Danny, I want you to take a look at what the saferoom actually looks like. I haven't been down there yet. I just noted it on the blueprints."

John listened to the two of them start to make plans and divvy up who was going to do what for a while. When they were done, he stood up with them. "Well, let me know if there's anything else I can do to help."

Steve nodded. "Since I know I can vouch for you—and if you're not busy with other things—I can always use another body to go through the house and point out issues. I know you know most of what to look for."

John nodded. "Sure. Where do you want me to start?"

Steve pulled out the blueprints, picking the first floor. "How about you go through these plans? Mark on the drawings any issues you see."

John took them and headed out. He actually spotted quite a bit, and spent several hours marking places for cameras and guard posts, as well as security issues that would need to be addressed. When he wandered back upstairs, Steve and Danny were still out.

Helen poked her head out of the kitchen as he pulled back a chair to sit down. "Mister Sheppard. Do you need anything?"

He started to say no, then paused. "Is McKay still in his rooms?"

"I don't know. He hasn't requested anything since lunch."

John stood up. "I'll go check on him then. Thanks."

"Of course, sir. Let me know if you need anything when you get back."

John headed back, not even bothering to check with the bimbo back on guard. He headed straight back for the rooms he had found McKay in before.

He was there—just like before—but the cat was in his lap and he seemed to be staring at the screen and petting the cat more than working.

"Hey."

McKay glanced up. "You're still here? Come to berate me again?"

John flinched. "No. I... look. I'm…not sorry for making you protect yourself. I don't want to have to go through worrying about you like that again. But...I am sorry I did it like that, and for whatever the hell else I did to piss you off at me."

McKay glanced away. "I don't have anywhere else to go for the foreseeable future, so you might want to find a hobby or something to keep you entertained."

"Right. I... right. Okay, I guess I'll see you when you need me again then. Sorry." John turned to go.

"I'm sure McGarrett will keep you informed of my schedule—whenever he allows me to make one."

John didn't bother to respond, knowing McKay had meant it exactly like it sounded. He didn't want to have anything to do with John except as his pilot who got him from point A to point B. John didn't know why that hurt so much. Well, he did, but he wasn't going to acknowledge that he had more than a crush on a very inappropriate person.

"And you can tell him that I won't go in the saferoom. I just can't."

John paused. "I think we all hope you never have to make that call. We're going to do everything in our power to make sure you don't."

"Everyone thinks my claustrophobia is just in my head, but it's real. I can't. Small spaces are just…bad."

John turned back to look at McKay. "I can understand that. It's not in your head. Does it help to know that it wouldn't be you just sitting in a tiny room waiting for something to happen? It would be going in and locking the door, yes, but then immediately opening a hidden door that would take you out to whatever rendezvous point you and Steve prearranged in case of emergencies."

"Honestly, no. I don't think I could get in it in the first place."

"Then I'll make sure everyone works harder at making sure it doesn't ever come to that."

"Right." If anything, McKay seemed to hunch in on himself more. "I should get back to work."

John shook his head. "Look, I know a lot has happened, but…why don't you let me take you out to dinner. You know I won't let anything happen to you, and you could use some fresh air away from here."

Rodney snorted bitterly. "I doubt I'm allowed to leave the house."

"Steve isn't a tyrant you know. He just wants to make sure you're safe. But he also knows I won't let something happen to you. You're not a prisoner, McKay, and I'm sorry if we made you feel that way."

"Of course I am. I'm in a gilded cage, that's all."

"No, you're not. Let me prove it to you. I'll take you out for dinner."

"I told you, McGarrett said I’m not allowed to leave the premises until further notice."

John fought the urge to roll his eyes and pulled his cell out. This would be faster than hunting him down.

Steve answered after two rings. "Everything okay, John?"

"I'm taking McKay on a field trip. I promise to have him home by curfew, and I'll bring him back in the same condition I found him in."

"Ah…right. Make sure you take his car. It's the only one I had a chance to check."

"Which one? I've been using the little smart car he has the few times I've taken him anywhere, since he refuses to get on my bike."

"Yeah, that's his. I need to get an armored SUV or something over here, but that'll take some time."

"He can't be trusted behind the wheel of a car anyway, so just get something interesting to drive that one of us can take him around in. But for now, I'll have my cell on if you need either of us."

"Stay in touch. I don't like having him out there with only one person as security—no offense. But after we kicked him this afternoon, I feel like I need to make it up to him."

"I will." John hung up and gave McKay a small grin. "We've been cleared to go. I'm thinking Italian. How does that sound?"

"Something that might not kill me with a single inhalation."

"That's why I suggested Italian. With seafood, there would be too many risk factors, but citrus doesn't factor high in most pasta dishes."

McKay nodded slowly. "Are you sure he gave you permission and you're not going to take me out and kill me?"

"I'm sure of both." John moved back to McKay's side and gently pulled him out of the seat. "And have you named that poor kitten yet? If not, I might be forced to do it for you."

"Newton."

John smiled. "Good name."

"It's a name."

"A good name."

"So, I should put Newton back in my room and change. Give me ten minutes?"

"Sure. I'll be in the main room whenever you're ready."

McKay nodded and padded off, looking over his shoulder at John a little quizzically before shaking his head and heading off.

John wasn't going to question it. He was just happy McKay had forgiven him for whatever he had done, and he was getting out of the house for a little while.

Sure enough, McKay was right on time, dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans that probably cost more than his old apartment's rent for the year.

Grinning, John led the way down to the garage, and into the little smart car waiting there. "So, is Italian really okay, or do you want something else?"

McKay climbed in the passenger side without complaint. "That's fine. I know it's the least likely cuisine to kill me."

"Good." John glanced over as they headed out. "So what are you working on now? Anything interesting?"

McKay shrugged, looking out the window. "Usual stuff that will change the world."

"Tell me about it. It's interesting."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Probably not, but what I do understand is fucking cool."

"It's the same stuff I've been working on. Just…trying to make it into something less theoretical and more practical."

"So it would be a brand new energy source?"

"Yes. If I can get all the calculations to work and develop a facility here to contain the energy."

"That's just amazing."

McKay shrugged. "Still a lot of work to be done."

"Still." John glanced over and smiled again.

McKay, though, was still looking out the window.

"Okay, what's wrong?"

That question got McKay to turn. "Who said anything is wrong?"

"You're quiet, and you don't want to tell me all about how brilliant you are. That means something is wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." He turned back to the window.

"Okay, we both know that's not true. You can tell me to mind my own business, but don't tell me nothing is wrong when it's obvious you're upset about something."

"I thought we were going to dinner."

"We are. But... Christ, McKay, I just hate seeing you so... dejected. I want to cheer you up, but I don't know what's wrong."

"I’m fine."

"You're like... a shadow of yourself." John sighed. "If it's me, I'm sorry. I know you're not happy with me, but I don't know what else I can do to make it up to you."

"Can we just go and eat?"

John nodded. "All right. If that's what you want."

"That's what I'd like. For a few hours I'd like to have a normal dinner without worrying if someone was trying to kidnap me or murder the people around me. So yes, that's what I'd like."

John flinched, but nodded. He decided to change the subject. "How has Newton been adjusting to being back here?"

"Fine. She seems to like following me around—so I'm not going to complain about that. I wouldn't want to lose her in the house though. I might have to get her Lojacked."

John chuckled. "We could have a chip put in. She has a serial number tattooed on her belly in case she gets lost, but they make little chips for pets now as extra protection."

"You can remove a tattoo. Harder to do with a chip."

"True." John smiled. "If you want, I can call the vet and see what the options are."

"No. I can do it."

"Okay." John smiled. "I have some new toys I got her, if it's okay. I can bring them tomorrow. I forgot to grab them earlier when I came over."

"You bought her toys?" McKay's eyes were wide in surprise.

"Of course I did." John grinned. "I found these little sparkly balls I think she'll like, and since she likes jumping, I got one of those wands with feathers on the end."

"Oh. That was nice. Ah…thanks."

"You're welcome."

There was a long silence before McKay spoke up again. "I don't pay you so you can buy me things, you know. You should go and buy stuff you want."

John snorted. "They're called presents, McKay. I buy them because I want to."

"But you don't have to."

"I know I don't. That's why they're gifts. You buy them for people because you want to, not because you have to."

McKay huffed, but subsided back into silence. This was certainly going to be an interesting night.

Dinner was a start and stop conversation, but by the end of it as they were driving home, McKay finally seemed to be loosening up a bit. John was proud of himself for at least getting some of the spark back.

The gates were still open when they returned, but Steve was waiting in the garage when John pulled in.

John grinned at him as they got out.

"I thought I told you to check in," Steve said as soon as they got closer.

"We were having a nice dinner. If something had gone wrong, I would have called."

"I said you needed to check in."

John sighed. "Sorry. I did mean to, but by the time I remembered, we were heading back."

"You know how important this is, John," Steve said with a sigh as McKay stepped past him into the house.

"I know. But..." John watched McKay walk in, still seeming lighter than before. "He said he just wanted to feel normal for a little while, like his whole world hadn't been turned upside down. Calling to check in with security would have shattered that illusion, and I think he needed it, badly."

"You know we can't make exceptions with his safety." Steve turned to watch McKay head deeper into the house.

"I wasn't. I can probably name every person by sight who came and went, and I had my gun where I could get it if I needed to. I just made sure he didn't realize it."

"It's my ass on the line—and his." He sighed again. "I'm not trying to give you a hard time, but I know I am. This house is a security nightmare."

"I know. That's why I called you." John smiled. "He's in a better frame of mind now, I think. He's just really struggling to deal with all of this. I'll be back tomorrow to try and keep him from falling back into the funk."

"We need to get a security crew here ASAP to get the cameras and a command center set up. I've already picked out a security company to work with. I've also pulled together an initial list of positions which will need to be filled immediately." Steve locked down the door leading to the garage and started walking back into the house, John following behind.

"Good. That's going to help a lot, just having some of the basics in place."

"Agreed." Steve nodded. "I need him to trust me and that's going to take some time, so I'm going to need to lean on you for a while."

John snorted. "You realize I've only been with him for a month, right? I think he trusts me some, and I'll do what I can, but don't expect miracles."

"You're a lot further along than I am."

"True. I don't think it will take too long, though. But until then, whatever you need from me, you know you only have to ask. Can we get rid of the bimbo secretary, though? And bring in someone who is actually efficient and can do the job?"

"She's already gone."

"Thank god." John couldn't explain why he hated the bimbo secretaries so much. "Do we have someone to replace her who's actually competent?"

"No. We need to hire someone to actually manage his schedule and his life."

"Yeah. We need to use a different service from the one he has been drawing from. They aren't qualified in the slightest."

"We need to do extensive background checks and find someone he can work with."

"Yeah, that will be the hard part. Maybe we can vet a few candidates, and then bring them in to interview with him."

"And make sure they're pretty."

John made a face.

"We both know what he likes and why he hired who he did. They need to have a brain and be halfway good looking."

"I feel like I'm trying to set him up on a date instead of finding a secretary."

Steve rolled his eyes. They moved into the dining room which Steve had turned into a temporary command center. "We need to make him safe and happy."

John sighed to himself, but nodded. "I'll start researching some of the placement agencies, and see if I can vet a few possibilities for him to interview in the next week or so."

"Good." He pulled open the blueprints and started gesturing. "We need to set up a lot of cameras in order to have this entire house covered."

"Did you get the plans I left for you with my suggestions for the first floor?"

"Yeah. Good suggestions. I added a few more, too."

"Good." John sat at the table, and for the next several hours, they tossed around ideas and hashed out the rough game plan for where to get started. When John finally stumbled home, it was really late.

But he felt good. He was finally doing something, making a difference. He just hoped it was enough.

 

***

 

In the course of the last two weeks, Rodney had never seen so many people invade the private sanctuary of his home. There were construction workers, security people, and a slew of possible new hires across multiple disciplines.

He just wanted his house back.

Through it all, Sheppard and his new buddies were doing everything to try and make it easy for him.

But it was hard. He knew he was grumpy and pissy about all the commotion, but it would be good in the long run. Eventually he would only need a small team in the house to keep him safe.

He rounded a corner to retreat to the relative quiet of his office when he almost fell over Sheppard sitting on the floor. After a few seconds, Rodney realized he was down there playing some kind of elaborate game with Newton.

"Aren't you supposed to be working with McGarrett?"

Sheppard's head jerked up, and color started to creep down his neck. "I'm taking a break."

"And molesting my cat. Now I know why she's exhausted at the end of a day."

The blush got brighter, but Sheppard stood up. "She's a good cat."

"Yes and at least now I can find her. The GPS works really well."

"Good. She doesn't even seem to notice the incision site. She was right back to playing the next day."

"Yeah. Helps that she's a kitten." Rodney leaned down and wiggled her fingers. Newton came running, rubbing up against them.

"She's a sweetheart, too. I love how she plays until she's so tired she can't stand, then wants to curl up in your lap to nap and rest up again."

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "I meant to tell you thank you again. She's been a lifesaver."

Sheppard smiled softly. "You're welcome. Now, what's on the agenda for today? How's the new secretary working out?"

"Actually," Rodney said with a sigh. "I fired her last night."

Sheppard blinked. "I thought you loved her."

"She was pretty and had great…" He gestured with his hands. "But I couldn't work with her. Her voice just…it was like fingernails on a chalkboard." He moved to drop into his chair. "I know I've been through three already, but…I have to be able to have a conversation with them. And they have to not cringe when I yell."

Dropping into a chair across from him, Sheppard's expression was wry. "Have you thought about going outside the big-breasted blonde box?"

Rodney sighed. "I…apparently have to broaden my horizons. At least that's what McGarrett told me earlier."

"Well, if you pick people based on eye candy and not qualifications, you tend to get... what you've had."

"Yes, fine. Sue me for wanting the whole package."

"You're not looking for someone to date, just to organize things for you."

"I have to work with them day in and day out. I need to actually like them… Okay. Maybe I just need to tolerate them, but still."

"Liking and ogling are two different things, McKay. You have to get along with them and work with them, not have sex with them."

Rodney waved him off. "I know. I also like…nice things. I'm an eccentric multi-billionaire. I'm allowed to have…quirks."

Sheppard snorted. "So hire a competent secretary and then hire a girl to stand around and be your eye candy all day."

"That's a waste of my money."

Sheppard snorted again

"What? It is."

"You just said you're a multi-billionaire with eccentricities. If you can afford to hire bimbos to marginally do their job, you can hire a competent person to work and a bimbo to stand around."

"I might be a multi-billionaire, but I got here through hard-work and being smart about my money. I'm not just going to…throw it away on eye-candy no matter how much I would like to. I also don't hire hookers because I want sex. There is a line I draw."

"Good to know." Sheppard shook his head. "So what qualities would you like me to look for when finding a new set of candidates to interview?"

Rodney sighed and leaned back in his chair. That really was the sixty-thousand dollar question. "Smart. I'd like them to have an MBA. Some background in science and math would be ideal, too." He glanced at Sheppard. "Is good-looking a crime?"

Sheppard gave him a weird look. "So basically you want me to find me, only female and busty, correct?"

"No. You don't have an MBA or a science degree."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"I think I know what degrees I have, McKay."

Rodney narrowed his eyes. "I know what degrees you have and science is not one of them. And no, they don't have to be female."

"Not completed. I don't have the paperwork, but I did all the coursework. I just never bothered to do the final presentation to get officially recognized."

"Right."

"You can check my transcripts if you'd like." Sheppard shrugged. "I lost interest in it before I took that final step, but if I ever wanted the piece of paper, all I have to do is submit the final thesis for review."

"I will, but that's beside the point. You're my pilot. I need a personal assistant."

"I wasn't offering to fill the position. I just wanted to clarify. You want someone with my qualifications—flight aside—only pretty on the eyes. Right?"

Rodney rolled his eyes and nodded. "More or less. I have to be able to work with them and they can't cry if I raise my voice."

"Right." Sheppard sighed softly. "I'll put a new list together and have it for you by the end of the day. You can let me know which ones you want to bring in to interview."

"I need full background information, too. None of this…short bullet-point stuff."

"When I tried to give you a full background on the first few, you told me to narrow it down to the important points."

"Yes, well. I changed my mind. Oh. And I need a picture, too."

"Of course you do."

He glared across the desk as Sheppard smirked at him. "I'm the one paying your salary."

"And I care about that because?"

"I don't need your snide remarks or the disapproving looks."

"And yet, that's part of the package." Sheppard smirked again.

"Oh, just get out and bring back my list of candidates."

Laughing, Sheppard rose and headed out.

He muttered curses under his breath as he got back to his own work. The equations for this energy bridge were more complicated than he expected and it was taking him a while to slog through it. In another life he would have been able to ask Radek or Jeannie for help, but those avenues were long since buried.

It had been a few hours when Sheppard wandered back in again, dropping a stack of folders in front of him.

He looked up at the other man. "Hello. Sure. Come right in. No, I can stop working. This is a good point in my very difficult and complicated energy calculations!"

"Good, then I didn't interrupt anything important. Those are the files. I need you to tell me which ones you want interviews with so I can call them and get them in here tomorrow."

He narrowed his eyes and glared. "That was sarcasm since you obviously have difficultly recognizing it."

"No, I recognized it, I just ignored it. Apparently you can't tell the difference. You should work on that."

"Again. I pay your salary."

"And, again I ask, so what? Fire me or deal with it, McKay."

"I should dock your pay for insolence. So are these any good?"

Sheppard snorted, but dropped into what had somehow become his chair. "A few, but they aren't as pretty. I put a few pretty, less qualified people in there for you, too."

Rodney started sorting the files, thankful Sheppard had put the picture on the outside of the folder. It helped categorize them in his mind.

"Any you like?"

"Are you asking for my opinion of who I would hire, or who I think you'll hire? Because those are two different things."

"I'm asking your opinion."

"If it were me, I would hire the one on top. She's more of a badass than a bimbo from what I can tell she's more than qualified, wouldn't cry, and would probably make you more efficient than you've ever been before. But she's dark-haired, small-chested, has tattoos and piercings, and while she's pretty, she's not the bombshell you usually go for."

"Who else?"

"There's a guy I threw in because he meets all the requirements save for the gender thing. But to be honest, there's something I'm not quite feeling with him. Nothing outright, which is why I didn't eliminate him completely, but his skill set is there."

"Something you're not feeling? Are you expecting your gut to tell you if he's good at his job?"

"No, I can't explain it, which is why I didn't pull him. I just…don't like him."

"Hmm," he said, picking up the folder and thumbing through it. "He's qualified."

"I know."

"Bring them in."

"All of them, or those two?"

"All of them. There's how many? Ten? Let's get them in."

"I'll have them in tomorrow, probably late morning. With luck, you'll find one you like and we can have them installed by that afternoon."

"Good good. We'll see which one of them cries first. Maybe I should have McGarrett make up an obstacle course or something. That could be fun to watch."

Sheppard burst out laughing. "Yes, it would be entertaining. And would tell us a lot about their adaptability."

"Yes. If they can think on their feet while running for their life."

"Well, we won't make it quite that challenging."

"Oh no, I think we should."

"We could be liable if we actually hurt them."

"Oh, I don't think you would."

Sheppard made a face. "If you really want one, I'll have Steve set something up. He'd get a kick out of it, too."

Rodney sighed, dropping the files back on his desk. "While it might be fun to torture the candidates, you're probably right. It's not a good idea—even though it would make for an interesting job interview. Just…bring 'em in and let's see how they are."

"Okay. Did you want to go out and grab dinner tonight? You haven't left the compound in a few days."

Rodney made a face. "I don't know if I’m allowed." He'd tried to go to the office the other day and McGarrett completely refused to let him leave the house.

"Why is it you'll threaten to fire me and dock my pay when I snark at you, but when he does it, you just let him?"

Rodney frowned. "He doesn't snark. He threatens and brandishes a gun."

"I threaten you and I have a gun, although I admittedly don't brandish it about."

"He's….scarier."

"Gee, thanks." Sheppard laughed softly. "But I think I'll take it as a compliment and leave it at that."

They ended up chatting for a while and Helen brought dinner in. The next morning the first candidates arrived early and left only minutes later. Rodney refused to work with anyone who didn't like cats.

Rodney caught a glimpse of Sheppard and McGarrett with their heads together. He saw money changing hands as they won and lost bets on who would survive and for how long.

"Instead of betting on who will make it out of my office, you should do something useful and actually pre-screen these jokers."

"We did." Sheppard grinned. "But we also know you."

He frowned at the two of them. "Who's up next?"

"The girl I told you I liked yesterday."

"She have a name?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Yes, but I didn't bother to remember it. Once you hire someone, I'll remember their name."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Send her in, will you?"

Sheppard leaned out the door, and a few moments later she walked in. "You're McKay?"

Rodney stood and debated for a moment about offering his hand. "I am. I'm hopeful that the two twelve year olds outside actually brought in the right person. You should be Sheila Black."

She actually grinned and shook his hand. "I don't know. They seem to be having a good time."

"And wasting time and my money." He gestured for her to have a seat. "So why should I hire you?"

"I'm good at what I do, which is keeping high-level executives organized and on schedule."

"Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't have asked you to come in."

She glanced at the door and smirked a little. "I also don't cry easily. Given the bets they're placing, I'm assuming that's a problem."

"But can you actually follow instructions given?"

"I follow intelligent instructions. I ignore stupid ones and do things the right way."

Rodney raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes that's not for you to decide."

"It is if it's my workload and ability to do my job that's at stake. I don't tell you how to do your job. I don't expect to be told how to do mine."

"The last I checked, you would work for me, so I would have complete say on what you did and what I expected was your job."

"You can decide what my job requirements are, yes, but if you plan to tell me how to go about completing those tasks, I should just go now because neither of us is going to be happy."

"Right now, I don't appreciate your attitude so I think this is a huge waste of my time. So yes, I think you should leave."

She shrugged. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Doctor. Good luck in your search."

"I can't say the same."

She laughed, surprising him. "Well, if your idea of a good assistant is some of the sheep out there, then yeah, I can see how I'd be a bit of a stretch. Still, it was an interesting afternoon. Thanks for seeing me."

"I don't mind attitude. Actually, I expect it, but it has to include respect, but in your case it's just rudeness."

"I call it outspoken and unwilling to bow to convention." She grinned as she stood up.

"I call it rude, arrogant, and presumptuous."

She shrugged. "I've heard people call you the same things. Today even, as they stormed out of the building before me."

"But I've put the time in. That's the difference."

"So have I. When you work for assholes, no offense, you either become a sheep or you learn to stand up for yourself." She shrugged again. "I'm not looking for validation, Doctor McKay. I am who I am, and I make no apologies for it."

"No, you haven’t. Not by a long shot." He shook his head. "And the fact that you don't know that is the biggest problem." He leaned over, looking out into the anteroom. "Bring in the next one."

She laughed again as she headed out.

While he wanted someone who actually had a brain—and some attitude—they also needed to respect him. The last thing he intended to do was take orders from some twenty-something with entitlement issues.

Sheppard came in, grinning. "I heard part of that. I wish I was straight. She would totally be my type if she was."

Rodney shook his head. "She has issues I have no intention of dealing with. That's the last time I take your advice."

"What can I say? I like snarky people with attitudes."

"I have no problem with attitudes, but it has to be in perspective. Who's up next?"

"Pick one from your pile, and I'll bring them in."

Rodney sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fine. Adam Griffiths."

Sheppard grimaced, but nodded. A few moments later the blonde male wandered in and sat down.

"You're Adam?"

"Yes, sir."

Rodney squinted at the picture and then back at Adam. "You look different in person."

"I'm sorry?"

Rodney waved him off, but couldn't help staring a little. He was very pretty, but he wasn't sure about the blonde hair on a guy. On women it was fine. On guys it was a little weird. "So, why should I hire you when Sheppard over there thinks there's something hinky about you?"

"Hinky, sir? I'm not sure how to respond to that."

"I think it was a pretty straight-forward question." He leaned over so he could see past Adam and out the door of his office. "That was a straight-forward question, right, Sheppard? I was speaking English, right?"

"Technically, 'hinky' isn't English I don't think, McKay." Sheppard stuck his head in.

"But its definition is pretty well-known, even in modern day colloquial speech."

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "I don't think he's hinky, McKay. Stop trying to make me seem like some kind of monster."

"You said there was something that didn't sit right with you. I distinctly remember the conversation."

"I know what I said, but that was for your information, not for you to blurt out in front of him. If you do hire him, we have to work together, and this isn't a good way to start."

Rodney glanced at Adam. "So. What's your issue?"

Adam had been looking back and forth between them. He licked his lips and took a breath. "Well sir, I'm a very good personal assistant. I have several references."

"And?"

"And I know I can do a good job for you, sir. I have experience managing complex schedules, and I'm very good at ensuring everyone and everything is where it needs to be."

"Is that all?"

"What else would you like to know, sir? I'd be more than happy to answer your questions."

Rodney shifted in his office chair, leaning back, putting his hands on his stomach. "How would you feel about dying your hair?"

Adam blinked. "Dying my hair, sir?"

"I don't know if I like the blonde. Brunette might be better."

"If that would earn me this job, sir, I would be happy to change my hair color."

"I don't know. The blonde just doesn't go with your complexion. But enough about your hair. How can you really help me?"

"Well sir, I prepared a sample schedule for you to look at." Adam leaned forward and headed over a set of papers. "I don't know your actual details, but I have worked with scientists before. Of course, if you hire me, I'll prepare a much more detailed and personal version, but I wanted to at least give you an idea of how I would work to keep your time managed to the best of my ability."

Rodney paged through the sheets of paper, semi-impressed with the research Adam had done. "So, obviously you can use a search engine and a computer."

"Yes, sir. I am very proficient in both, and I have, as your recruitment notice said you wanted, undergraduate degrees in math and science. My long-term goal is to eventually work my way into a science position in an organization like yours, but I want to earn my way up, and learn more before I take that step."

"What's your discipline?"

"Algebra and chemistry."

Rodney hummed, picking up the file Sheppard had prepared. "Single?"

"Yes, sir."

"Bi, gay, straight?"

Adam blushed. "Bi, sir."

Rodney glanced up. "Huh. Are you comfortable with moving here? It is a live-in position."

"Yes, sir, I understood that when I responded to the call I got. I understand I'll have a private room, correct?"

"Yes, of course."

Adam nodded. "Then I wouldn't mind it, sir. My family is all on the mainland. I came here hoping to get a job like this one, like I said, to give me some experience and learn more so I can decide what disciplines I ultimately want to focus on."

Rodney nodded. "I'll let you know."

Adam rose. "Thank you, sir. I'll be looking forward to hearing from you, and I appreciate your time today."

Rodney shook his hand and watched him walk out.

Sheppard sighed. "You're going to hire him, aren't you?"

"I don't know. He's too polite."

"Sheila wasn't polite enough, and now he's too polite?"

Rodney nodded. "More or less."

Sheppard shook his head. "Well, you need to hire someone. We're running out of candidates who can pass the security screening on the Island."

"I'm not just going to settle."

"I'm not suggesting that." Sheppard dropped back into his chair. "Other than politeness issues, what else is bothering you? That will help me narrow it down a bit more in the next batch."

"I don't know. I have to actually…like the person. They're going to be living in my house."

"You didn't like any of the bimbos, you just wanted to look at the bouncing breasts."

Rodney scowled. "So maybe I'm trying to be a bit more discerning since McGarrett over there continues to instill fear in my heart."

"I'm not complaining." Sheppard sighed. "Just trying to figure out what you want so I can give it to you."

"I'll know it when I see it."

"Right. Okay. I'll find a new batch of candidates then. We might have to go beyond Mann and ferry some people over."

"I want the best I can get. I don't care where they come from."

"All right. I'll go further afield then. It might take me a few days to get a new set of candidate profiles together, and then I'll probably have to use the plane to go get them if they agree to interviews."

"Have them fly commercial. I don't want them to use the plane."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Are you willing to pay for the tickets for that?"

"Of course." He waved off Sheppard. "Just get it done."

Shaking his head, Sheppard grinned at him. "All right."

"What?"

"What?"

"What's the look for?"

"What look?"

Rodney waved his hand at Sheppard. "That look. That disapproving amused look."

"I'm not disapproving."

"Right."

"I'm not. Amused I'll give you, but I don't disapprove. I'd rather take the time now to find the right person instead of the constant stream of bouncy idiots."

"So, what's the hold up? Go forth and find them."

Sheppard snapped him a salute and a grin and wandered out with a "Sir, yes sir" called back.

Rodney rolled his eyes and then proceeded to go though the rest of the candidates they'd managed to get in for an interview today. He didn't like any of them and by the time the last one walked out, he was exhausted.

Sheppard wandered back in after the last candidate left, but this time he had a tray of food, complete with a cup of tea.

"I hate them all."

"Don't worry. We'll find the right person. I've already started researching the next round."

"This is a waste of my time."

"No, it's not. Finding the right person is hard, but once it's done, you won't have to think about it again."

"It feels like a waste of my time."

"It's not." Sheppard moved behind him and started to rub his shoulders. "Have a little something to eat. You'll have a break for a few days before we have to do this again."

Rodney immediately stilled, his entire body going tight and tense.

Sheppard stopped. "What's wrong now?"

"I just…don't think it's…appropriate for you to be doing that."

With a soft sigh, Sheppard moved back to his chair. "You just looked so tense, I was worried your shoulders were going to hurt. But it's fine."

"Look. I have some work I need to do," he said, not looking up. "Let me know when you get new candidates scheduled for me to interview. I'm going to finish up this and then head up to bed."

He heard another soft sigh, but from the sounds, Sheppard stood back up. "All right. Make sure you eat, and I'll see you in a few days then, I guess."

"Yes, yes. I'm sure."

The door closed quietly behind Sheppard, leaving Rodney alone for the first time all day.

Rodney let out a long breath. The last thing he needed was to develop a…thing for one of his employees, but the unnecessary touching was not going to help in that regard. Distance and emotional separation. That's what he needed.

Yes. He nodded to himself. That's what he needed.

 

***

 

John was about ready to pull his hair out. After three weeks of McKay rejecting personal assistant candidates, he just didn’t know what else to try. He started at his blank computer screen, trying to figure out a new set of search terms to try.

Maybe he could headhunt away from another firm. Or find a grad student. He hadn't tried MIT or CalSci yet. Or Northwestern. Or a few of the other schools.

It was times like this he wished he was still on good terms with his brother. He was willing to bet Dave had a few assistants John could poach from.

He could ask Lorne, but McKay would probably automatically reject anyone he got through him just on the grounds that he would think they were spies.

John ran a hand through his hair. Who would have thought finding a secretary would be this hard?

Secretly he was glad McKay hadn't liked Adam, but he had been a little surprised McKay had asked him to dye his hair brown. That was, honestly, a little weird.

With a sigh, John dove back into the personnel records of pretty much any reputable firm worldwide, trying to find the proverbial diamond in the rough.

Thankfully the security systems had come along easily enough. That, and the background checks on the new security team. There were now five people in and around the property at all times.

John had been able to relax, finally, on that front. McKay had started to actually trust Steve and his decisions, so that relationship was coming along. Glancing at his search results, John forwarded them to McKay. He had stopped printing it all out after the third round of candidates.

It took exactly nine minutes and forty-three seconds for McKay to turn them around. He said no to five of the ten.

Well, that was five more. None of them were anywhere near Mann, so John started reaching out to them to see if they would be interested in relocating, and if so, if they would be available to be flown out for an interview.

It took time. And John had long since run out of patience for this kind of tedious work.

God, he was going to be glad to hire someone so they could do this shit instead of him.

He wanted to be in the air, but until McKay was safe and settled, Steve wasn't letting him add any travel to his schedule. McKay had already turned down four jobs—speaking assignments mostly—but John could tell it had grated on the man. He wasn't used to someone telling him "no".

Over the next few days, John continued to coordinate travel schedules for candidates, and when interview day finally came, and they were all en-route from the hotel where they had stayed the night before he glared at Steve. "If he doesn't pick one of these, I am officially resigning as temporary secretary."

"I don't think he'll let you."

John snorted. "I think he's as tired of my way of doing it as I am of having to do it in the first place."

"Maybe, but he hasn't tried to fire you in a few days now. That says something." Steve smirked at him. "Maybe he'll just hire you on full-time as his personal assistant."

"If he tries, I'm stealing the plane and hiding out in Bermuda somewhere."

"No, you wouldn't do that because you know he'll send me after you to drag your sorry ass back home."

"You like me too much to do that to me."

"Oh no. I would drag your sorry ass back. It would be fun, too."

John huffed. "I'd find a way to dissuade you that wouldn't later get me killed by Danny."

"Nope. Not happening. It would be my distinct pleasure to drag you back so you better just suck it up and deal."

Shooting the other man a dirty look, John headed into McKay's office. "The latest batch are on their way now."

"Good good. How many?" McKay asked, not even looking up from his computer screen. Newton was on top of the desk pouncing on some dust mote.

"Six this time. None of them from anywhere nearby. Two are from the States, one from Canada, an Australian, a Russian, and Japanese. All but one are female."

"You like any of them?"

McKay always asked him that, and every time, those were the first to be thrown out. But John just couldn't help himself. "Actually, yes. Both Americans are extremely qualified and their previous work speaks volumes about their ability to cope. The Russian and Japanese I question the 'not crying' abilities, but we'll be able to test that relatively early. They just seem like they could be more fragile. The others are all more than capable of doing the job."

"A Canadian, eh?"

John chuckled. "Yes, I found one of your countrymen—or woman in this case—who could do the job."

"Huh," he said quietly as he saved whatever he was working on. "Send in the Russian first."

John nodded. "He's the only male in the bunch. They should all be arriving momentarily, so I'll have them ready for you to start in about ten minutes."

"Fine fine. Make sure I get a new cup of coffee, too, while you're at it."

With a sigh, John headed out for more coffee, shooting Steve another dirty look as he went.

"We can put you in a maid's uniform if you think it'll help."

"Ha. Very ha."

"Maybe he'd look at you then."

John opened his mouth to retort, then closed it. "I'm not that stupid. He's straight, I'm not female, and I know better than to get involved with my boss."

"Officially, he's bi," Steve said with a smirk.

"A few hurried blowjobs in the back of a lab don't make you bi."

Steve shrugged. "So why did he ask for a background check on a really hot and hung guy?"

"I have no idea. Because he wants to hire him? I can assure you it's not because he wants to sleep with him."

"He's not a new hire. I asked. He said he was a friend." Steve hitched a hip up against the cabinet as John poured coffee for McKay. "He wasn't happy about the background checks on his friends, but I required it before anyone steps foot in this house."

"Just because he has friends doesn't mean he's sleeping with them, you know."

Steve shrugged. John turned back toward McKay's office. "Looks a little like you."

John shook his head. "He's not interested in men, and especially not in men like me, Steve. Do I have a crush, yes. But I'll get over it and move on, no harm no foul."

"Oh, I doubt you're getting over it anytime soon, but you can go ahead and tell yourself that." He shoved himself away from the counter as the doorbell rang. "I'll bring in the next group of sheep for the slaughter."

John grumbled to himself as he went back in and handed the coffee over. "The candidates are here, here's your coffee." It was just on the tip of his tongue to ask if McKay was really running background checks on male hookers, but he stopped short.

"Great. Russian's up first, right?" McKay didn't even look up. He glanced to the side, found the coffee mug and took a sip.

Right. John shook his head. Steve was just messing with his head. McKay didn't do guys, and he most certainly didn't do John in any sense of the word. "Right."

McKay pulled out the folder, finding the Russian candidate easily. "Huh. Alexander Mihailov. Not bad looking."

John narrowed his eyes. Okay, so maybe he was going to ask. "Are you really bi, or just straight and willing to take a handjob when the opportunity presents itself?"

McKay looked up, his mouth forming an "O". "Ah…what?"

In for a penny, right? "Because I've been going on the assumption that I don't stand a chance because you don't do guys."

McKay blushed. HE GOD DAMN BLUSHED. "It's really…inappropriate for me to have any kind of…relations with an employee."

John moved closer, getting into his face."That's not what I asked, because frankly I've never cared much for the rules of propriety. Are. You. Into. Guys."

He shifted away, not quite able to meet John's eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes. I'm an…equal opportunity kind of guy."

John figured at this point, he was already in with both feet, so he took McKay's face in one hand and turned it so they were eye-to-eye. "Now, the next question is, are you uncomfortable because you want me but think it's a bad idea, or because you don't want me and don't want to talk about this?"

"This is a _really_ bad idea."

"I've made a career out of jumping into really bad ideas and making them work." John leaned in very close, so their breath was mingling. "I'm going to kiss you now. And once these interviews are done, I'm going to take you somewhere private to continue this conversation."

"Really, really bad idea," he whispered, even as his eyes fluttered closed.

John growled softly and closed the distance, pressing their lips together.

Even with the light, soft press of lips, McKay moaned quietly into the kiss.

It took all of John's self control not to just haul the other man into the bedroom now. He did deepen the kiss briefly before he pulled away. "So, to clarify, the only reason I haven't actively claimed you before now is because I thought you weren't into guys. So now that I know you are both bi and attracted to me, for the foreseeable future, you are mine. You will not be sampling the services of any of your secretaries any time in the near future. Got it?"

McKay looked rumpled, confused, and downright fuckable. "What?" he finally got out nearly a minute later.

"I have been pining after you since we met. PINING. I have wanted you since I first saw you yelling at your ex-wife, but I kept my hands to myself. I am not, however, a patient man as a general rule. So now that we have had a few months of foreplay, I am going to take you to bed and fuck you senseless."

McKay shook his head. "I can't. You work for me."

"Who the hell cares? I don't need the money, so you can stop paying me and just keep me on as your boyfriend who also happens to fly you places if you want. But if you think you can find a reason why I shouldn't take you to bed, you are sadly mistaken."

"You work for me," he hissed.

"Whatever. However you need to work it out in your head, it's fine. But this conversation isn't over."

McKay whimpered a little as John stormed away.

He shot a look at Steve, who was smirking. "I don't want to hear it. You," he pointed to the Russian, who, being the only male, was easy to pick out. "You're first."

The man took a step back, his eyes widening. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Go."

"What did I do to you?"

John narrowed his eyes then raised his voice. "McKay, the Russian can't follow a simple order like 'It's your turn, head on in.' I'm sending him home. You." He pointed at one of the girls. "You're up."

Apparently, John's original take on the "not sure if they will cry or not" was accurate because the Japanese girl immediately started blubbering. Seconds later, tears started welling up.

He pinched his nose. "Okay, I'm sorry, but if you can't take this, then you can't handle this job. You will be yelled at, probably daily, mostly by McKay himself."

 He turned to the next one in line.

She had a small grin on her face. "Do you think you can follow a simple order like 'it's your turn' and manage to not cry in the process?"

"I'm sure I can. Is it my turn?"

"Yes, it is. Please go inside."

She gave him a smirk and moved easily past him, ignoring the two criers. "Thanks, Mister Sheppard."

John sighed as he looked at the two he had already eliminated. "Steve, can you arrange for transportation for them back to the airport?"

"Of course…Mister Sheppard." Steve smirked at him as he walked past, gesturing for the two ineligible candidates to follow him. The rest looked downright scared.

Great. John moved to the doorway so he could hear the interview.

"…course that wouldn't be a problem," she said. "While I don't have a background in astrophysics, you'll find I'm very good in math and have excellent organizational skills so managing your schedule shouldn’t be difficult—as long as you actually trust me to manage your schedule."

John nodded to himself. He firmly believed McKay needed someone to stand up to him a bit. Hopefully this one would have the right mix of balls and whatever else was on McKay's list of qualifications.

"My schedule can change on a moment's notice—" McKay said and the interviewee—God only knows what her name was—calmly interrupted.

"Sir, I understand the complexities of your schedule, but to be perfectly honest, if people are calling you last-minute to give speeches they don't appreciate or respect your time or talents. You should have your speaking schedule booked months in advance so you're not working on your PowerPoint on the way to the conference."

"I don't—" McKay started and after a moment's pause, John heard a sigh. "Okay, yes, fine. So that happens more than I care to admit."

"And that's something I would look to change for you. Your time is valuable and shouldn't be taken for granted by the people who want to hear you speak. If they want to have you, they should plan the event around you, not wait until the last minute."

"Well, yes, of course they should. I'm a genius, but scheduling things like that takes time."

"Exactly. These events are planned months, sometimes years, in advance. Once they know they want you to speak, they need to contact you. And, frankly, I don't believe you should be a last-minute substitution for someone else who had to cancel. You are important, Doctor McKay, but while you command respect in many ways, when it comes to your time, you have allowed people to take advantage of you. It's not your fault as much as it is the fault of whomever was supposed to be handling it for you, but at the same time, I believe that should change. If you hired me, and with your permission, I would require anyone seeking to book your time to call us at least six months in advance. For the rare occasion when something might be important enough to you to attend without that window, I would want to sit down with you and work out a type of 'rush fee' that would be tacked on to your usual speaking engagement fees, so people understand that your time is valuable."

"I have my research and my companies, too. It's not like all I have to do is speak at conferences." If John shifted a few feet he could probably glance in and see McKay all puffed up with the praise he was getting, but he didn't want to interrupt anything. This was going well so far.

"That's my point, sir. These people want you to drop everything to speak at a conference, and are not respecting that you have other responsibilities besides them. By creating a structure of fees based on how far in advance they book you, it will make it very clear that your time is too valuable to waste on last-minute decisions and preparations. If they want you to drop everything, they should be willing to compensate you for it as your position and knowledge demand."

"Huh. I hadn't thought about it that way."

"Frankly, Doctor McKay, you shouldn't have to. That should be the job of whomever is handling your schedule. Once you sit down together, with me or with someone else, and create a structure you're happy with, you shouldn't have to think about it again. It would be my job to manage expectations and bookings, and make sure you now well in advance what's coming up."

"Huh," McKay said again, quietly. There was the sound of fluttering paper and then McKay continued. "So you have a dual citizenship in the US and Canada. Why?"

"My mother is Canadian and my father is from Nevada. When they got married, they decided to both apply for the dual citizenship, which extended to me when I was born."

"Gay, straight, bi?"

"Not to be rude, sir, but does it matter?"

"It does to me because the last thing I need is a personal assistant who has an issue with who I sleep with. As much as they say it doesn't affect job performance, I know it does. The last thing I need is for someone who lives in my house to be intolerant of other people's choices."

"I can understand that concern, but my own orientation, honestly, doesn't have any bearing on how tolerant I am of others. I can assure you, though, that I don't really care who you associate with in your personal time. As long as they don't interfere with your schedule, your personal life is your own."

"And I'm curious."

John heard a chuckle. "Which is understandable given your profession. But, with all due respect, that's not something I'm comfortable discussing in an interview. If you hire me, and once we have a chance to get better acquainted, I would be happy to revisit the question. For now, though, I am single, but I'd rather not say more."

Surprisingly, McKay let it slide. "No issues moving here?"

"No, sir. I understand you travel worldwide, and this is your base of operations. I would like to have a few weeks of vacation time each year to return home to visit my family, but I am okay with making this my permanent residence."

"Any questions for me?"

"Other than managing your schedule, would there be any other duties I would be expected to perform?"

"You'd be my personal assistant, so if I need something done you'd be the one to do it. It could be getting me coffee to contacting vendors for various projects or interfacing with scientists who work for me."

"Good. Obviously, working hours will fluctuate on a day to day, and project to project basis, but would I be guaranteed any free time on a regular basis?"

"You'd be salaried and would work when there was work. You would be on call 24/7."

"And if I wasn't directly in the middle of anything, would I have access to a car to leave the compound and explore? Taking, I would assume, a cell phone so as to be available should I need to return early."

"Yes, of course. I have several cars. You'd also have to coordinate everything with my chief of security."

"Yes. I would plan to coordinate all appearances with him as well. I assume that, in addition to making arrangements for yourself for travel, I will also be handling the arrangements for your staff, including security, as well. Would I be traveling with you to handle on-site coordinating, or would you wish me to remain here at all times?"

"It would depend and would be considered on a case-by-case basis."

"Excellent. When will you be making a decision on who to hire, and when can I expect to hear your decision? I would request that I be allowed a week before starting, if you decide to hire me, to close my apartment and arrange for some of my personal items to be shipped here."

"No question about salary or vacation time?" McKay asked, sounding a little surprised.

John heard another soft chuckle. "I thought it would be rude to ask about salary and benefits before actually being offered the job. Do you have a package?"

"One million a year. Three weeks of vacation."

"Health insurance? Retirement?"

"Full coverage. I'll match up to ten percent in a 401K. The rest is up to you."

"What about sick days?"

"Don't worry about them—as long as you're not sick every week."

"Good. I don't actually get sick that often, but even I occasionally fall victim to something."

"Anything else?"

"You mentioned I'll be living here on site. Will I get a room or a suite of rooms? An office? And will food be factored into that as well, or will I need to provide that for myself?"

"It will be a suite. Your office will be down here in the corporate wing. Food would be taken care of by the staff. I'm highly allergic so certain foods are not permitted on the grounds."

"Good to know. Will I get a list of those foods so I can make sure when you travel, arrangements are made to ensure they aren't in your food?"

"Yes, of course. I have no desire to die from a stupid mistake."

"Then I don't have any more questions for you. Do you have any for me?"

"No, I don't think so." There was a pause and then McKay spoke up again, this time louder. "Sheppard, you might as well come in. I'd hate for you to strain your neck anymore than it already is."

John grinned and came around the corner. "I wasn't straining." He held out his hand to the girl. "John Sheppard."

"Yes, I know," she said with a smile. "Nathalie Bradbury, but you know that already."

John smiled at her. "A pleasure to meet you."

"I'm tired of interviewing stupid people. Bradbury here will be joining the staff. Send the rest of them home."

Laughing, John nodded. "Steve will take care of showing them out. I'll make travel arrangements for her to get home and back, and start a house account so she can arrange to have her personal items shipped here."

"Good." He waved his hands, shooing them out. "Go. Be off with you. I have better things to do."

John led her out and handed her off to Steve. "Congratulations. When you come back and get settled in, I'll sit down with you and go over everything."

"Thanks," she said with a smile. "I do have one question, though."

"Yes?"

"I thought you were his pilot. Weren't you the one making all the arrangements to have us fly in here for these interviews?"

John made a face. "I've been acting as his assistant while we looked for one. And you have no idea how happy I am going to be to hand all this stuff off to you."

Nathalie laughed. "I can imagine. It's a bitch to do if you're not used to it."

"I cannot wait to not have to do it anymore." John grinned. "I do have a new respect for your job, however."

"So I'll need to coordinate with a moving company to get my stuff shipped here. Also, I don't have an international cell plan, so would that also be included?"

"Yes. Actually, Steve will give you a cell that's already pre-programmed with the numbers for myself, McKay, and Steve McGarrett, who is the chief of security."

"Oh, that other cutie who was with you when we came in."

John laughed. "Yes, that was Steve, and he's taken, unfortunately. Danny is also his second in command for security, so no flirting with him, either."

"Oh. So that's why McKay asked about that stuff. And I thought it was him." She grinned. "No problem, sir. Wouldn't think of splitting them up."

John smiled. "McKay is off-limits too. Or will be by the time you get back."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Not that I would even think about sleeping with my boss—that's just a bad idea—but he's not really my type."

John laughed. "I make a habit of living on the edge, and good to know."

This time her eyes went wide. "Oh. So you're his pilot," she said, her hands making air quotes around the last word.

"Right at this moment, without the quotes. By the end of the day, with them, yes. I got tired of letting him run the show."

Nathalie let out a loud laugh. "Oh, god. This is going to be a lot of fun. I should find Steve and get myself set up."

"Good. If you need anything in the mean time before you start, don't hesitate to call one of us."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll be in touch," she said, heading back toward the main foyer.

When she was gone, John headed back into McKay's office.

And he was nowhere to be found. Even Newton was gone.

John grinned. This was going to be fun. Since McKay hadn't come past them in the hall, there were only a few places he could have gone to ground.

John stalked through the corporate wing of the house, but found it surprisingly empty.

He headed for McKay's private wing.

His cell rang when he was headed up the stairs to the third level via the back staircase.

"Sheppard."

"It's Steve. I need you to run into town to get these candidates on planes home."

"You have a staff now, including one whose job it is to drive people around. Why me? No offense, but I'm trying to find McKay, who is currently hiding."

"They're busy. You're not."

"Actually, I am."

Steve sighed. "Trying to get laid is not busy."

"Matter of opinion."

"Sheppard."

"Fine. Just tell me you know where McKay is, so I at least know he is in fact hiding and nothing is wrong."

Steve sighed again. "In the house. I'm dealing with the interviewees. Call me when you're on your way down."

"I will. Thanks." John hung up and continued up the stairs to McKay's bedroom.

The private wing of the house was pretty quiet, but John could hear the soft rumblings of a television left on low. He followed it to find McKay ensconced on the couch, Newton in his lap, his eyes fixed on what looked like an episode of Doctor Who.

Coming up behind him, John leaned in and wrapped his arms around McKay's shoulders. "Hiding?"

McKay jumped and he glanced up, looking annoyed. "I do not hide. I'm decompressing. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"Shouldn't you be downstairs helping Steve corral the strangers in my house?"

"I'm going down there in a minute." John pressed his nose into the side of McKay's neck, inhaling deeply. "Do you have any idea how much I want you? How many ways I've fantasized about you since we first met? Please tell me you aren't going to freak out or run away. Tell me you want to try this, too."

"Have I mentioned that I think this is a really bad idea? It's going to set a bad precedent." He wasn't trying to shove John away, though, which was a good sign.

"We can make it work. Set boundaries if you want, whatever. But would it be any easier now, knowing we're attracted to each other if we didn't follow through? Or would it just be distracting? Nothing has to change except that we have really spectacular sex in addition to everything else."

"I'm not one to turn down spectacular sex," McKay said, a little begrudgingly.

"And I am fantastic in bed." John inhaled again. God, he was hard just doing this. "Tell me you'll try. That you'll give it a shot and see what happens. If it doesn't work out, I go back to just being your pilot and not anything else."

"Like we'd actually be able to go back to that."

"I'm hoping it will never come up."

McKay sighed and shifted out of John's arms, turning around on the couch to face him. His expression was serious. "Look. I'm not saying no. One of the reasons I hired you was because you were hot—but then we've been through that whole thing with regards to my staff."

John had to smile. "Tell me what you're worried will happen."

"That it could go horribly wrong and I'll find myself dead because you're really a serial killer."

"I already threw myself in front of bullets for you, and I've bullied you into an entire security program. I don't think you really have to worry about being safe from me, at least."

"You could be luring me into a false sense of security."

John shook his head. "If I really did want you dead, I wouldn't have scrambled half of Hawaii and the Air Force to protect you. Not to mention making sure you've got the absolute best person in the world running your security team. He'd kill me before he would let something happen to someone he was in charge of protecting."

"Still." McKay rubbed Newton's back, the kitten arching into his touch. "It just has all the possibilities of going horribly wrong. You've seen my…abysmal ability to read people."

"I bought you a cat, and I make you go on dates with me."

"I thought you were just apologizing for buying that incredibly reckless vehicle you drive."

John laughed and came around the couch to sit next to McKay. "Look, I promised Steve I would drive the candidates back to the airport. So just… think about it, okay? I really, really want this, but I also don't want you to feel like I'm bullying you into it."

McKay snorted and rolled his eyes. "As if." He licked his lips. "So. You didn't just say yes to the job for the money and the plane."

"I said yes to the job for the money and plane, because I thought you were straight. I thought you were hot, but I… fell for you as we've worked together."

"Well, I am pretty incredible." He smiled crookedly.

John smiled. "Yeah, you are." He leaned forward to squeeze McKay's hand. "I'll go ferry the kids, and you can think about it, okay? If you're interested when I get back, we'll talk more tonight. Does that work?"

McKay leaned forward, instead, pressing his lips to John's.

John let his lips part, a quiet moan escaping before he could stop it.

McKay pulled back slowly. He lifted heavy eyelids to look at John. "Answer your question?"

John knew he probably looked wrecked already. "McGarrett works for you. You could tell him to find someone else to drive so I could stay here."

"Go do your job. This'll keep."

"Right." John took a deep breath. "I won't be gone long. And when I get back, you and I are going to do more talking like that. With less clothing."

McKay—Rodney—laughed. It was delighted and surprised and downright dirty at the same time. "We'll see."

John had to shift because he was so hard it was starting to hurt. "I will drive very fast. Carefully, but fast."

"Go already. How can I miss you if you don't leave?"

"Yeah, yeah." John stood up, knowing Rodney could see the bulge in his pants.

Rodney just smiled and turned back to the television, grumbling about missing part of the program.

John headed out, glancing back once. Damn. It seemed like Lady Luck had actually started to give him some favor.

He stumbled down the stairs, coming face-to-face with Steve once he hit the first floor. He narrowed his eyes at John before shaking his head. "Shit, John. You're going to be completely useless to me now, aren't you? I better not have to call you 'sir'."

John laughed softly. "No, nothing changes in that regard. I just get a few extra perks, is all. And now I have even more reason to keep him safe."

Steve shook his head. "Great. Just great. Another boss."

John snorted. "You'll still boss me around, I'm sure. As if evidenced by the fact that I'm here to ferry people to the airport instead of upstairs getting laid for the first time in several years."

"I already sent Danny."

John blinked. "Then why the hell am I down here?"

Steve shrugged. "You never called—like I asked you to do—before you came down."

John rolled his eyes. "I wasn't gone all that long. But if you don't need me, I'm going to back upstairs to finish what I started."

"I'll make sure you aren't disturbed."

"Thanks." John shot him a grin, then headed back up the stairs.

John closed the main doors to the private wing at the top of the stairs, locking them, before heading down the hall. He'd only been up here a handful of times.

"Mc… Rodney? Steve sent someone else, so I'm free for the rest of the day and all yours."

"Mmm?" Rodney asked, glancing over his shoulder, a quizzical expression on his face. "I thought I had more time."

John raised an eyebrow. "I can go wait in the hall for a while if you'd like."

Rodney gestured toward the television. "I was trying to catch up on this."

John sat next to him and put an arm around him. "So? I like Doctor Who, and I haven't seen a lot of them. Which doctor are you on?"

"Current. It was on the other night and I was too busy fixing one of my scientist's equations. I forgot it was on. Thank god for Tivo."

John chuckled. "I haven't seen any of the new ones. I just haven't had time to go get them and catch up. So let's watch."

"You sure?"

"Of course." John scooted in closer so they were pressed together.

"Oh. Okay." Rodney relaxed into him, shifting a few times—just like a cat—before stilling. Once he was settled Newton maneuvered herself so she was draped across both of their thighs.

John hummed softly to himself. He smiled as the show unfolded, surprised at how content he felt. He hadn't been this relaxed in a long time.

About fifteen minutes later, though, Rodney leaned forward and clicked the television off with the remote. "Okay. I can't do this…can't just sit here when you're right there putting off that heat and…" He turned to John, grabbed his face in his hands and kissed him. Hard.

John moaned, opening up and letting him in. He reached for the other man, pushing his hands under Rodney's shirt, wanting to feel skin.

Newton meowed a whine of annoyance and scampered off, leaving the two of them alone. Rodney shifted again, his knees ending up on either side of John's legs, all but sitting in John's lap.

John arched up into him, pressing their bodies together as they continued to kiss.

Rodney pulled away at one point, forehead pressed to John's as he panted. "You taste as good as you look. How is that possible?"

"God," John moaned. "You taste like coffee and chocolate, and I think I might be addicted already."

Rodney chuckled. "Those are my primary foods groups so I'm not surprised. Although, I may have just added a third."

John moaned again, arching to try for more contact. "We need to be in a bed, where I can strip you and taste you all over."

"Bed. Yeah. I have a big one. We should try that."

John wrapped his arms around Rodney and stood up, taking the other man with him. Fortunately, Rodney automatically wrapped his legs around John's body, so he just headed for the bedroom.

"I'm not exactly a light-weight, you know."

"You're perfect."

It didn't take John long to make it to the bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him before carefully putting Rodney down on top of the bedspread, laying him out. Rodney tugged him close, not letting him pull away, pressing his lips to John's once again.

This was much better. John covered Rodney's body with his own, kissing the other man with everything he had.

"Clothes," Rodney panted at some point later. "Off! They need to come off!"

"Oh hell yes." John sat up enough to yank his shirt off in one motion.

Rodney immediately sat up, running his hands up John's chest. "You're hairy."

John leaned into the caress. "Is that good or bad?"

"Good. Reminds me you're a guy."

Humming, John tugged on the hem of Rodney's shirt. "Your turn."

Rodney leaned back and raised his arms, letting John tug the first free. He tossed it to the side somewhere, not paying any attention to where it ended up.

He ran his hands up Rodney's chest, thumbing at the perky nipples he found. "You're beautiful."

Rodney moaned, leaning into John's touch—and doing some exploring on his own. "Hmm. A genius brain has to be housed in something halfway decent."

"More than decent." John's breath caught as Rodney's fingers found sensitive spots.

Rodney hummed again as he tugged John down toward the bed with him. "Still too may clothes, but I'll take this for now."

Chuckling a bit breathlessly, John closed the distance between them again, wanting another taste.

Rodney came up for air a while later, flushed and panting. "I guess…I guess I should tell Ryan not to come."

"Who the hell is Ryan?"

"A friend."

John narrowed his eyes and snaked a hand between them to palm Rodney's cock in his pants. "I don't share. This is mine."

Rodney groaned deeply, his eyes closing as he arched into John's touch.

Sitting up, John rolled off so he could kick off his shoes and strip out of his pants, standing before Rodney completely naked.

Rodney's head was tipped to the side, watching with wide hungry eyes.

John swallowed. Having that much focused attention on him was a heady thing. "Your turn. I want to see you."

"Yeah. Right." He moved as if to get up and then slumped back. He waved his hand at John. "You do it."

Humming, John pulled Rodney's shoes and socks off then reached for his waistband to make sure everything was unzipped.

Rodney lifted his hips, letting John slide his pants and boxers off.

Standing back, John made a happy noise deep in the back of his throat.

"Come on already," Rodney said, gesturing him forward and spreading his legs a little.

"God." John didn't have to be asked twice, and it was like sliding home.

"Yeah," Rodney groaned, his hands urging John closer. He wrapped an ankle along the back of John's leg.

It was perfect and John had to dive in for another taste, needing to match the feel of Rodney's skin against his with the unique, addictive flavor of the man.

They touched and tasted, letting themselves get lost in the sensations. The constant pressure and rubbing against is cock was pure torture and pleasure at the same time. Rodney muttered quietly the entire time, soft exclamations and sounds, half swallowed by panting breaths and skin.

They shifted and suddenly the angle was just RIGHT. John gasped. "Gonna. I'm gonna..."

"Come on…" Rodney muttered, arching up. He sucked at a spot on John's neck and the sharp point of pain pushed him over the edge.

With a cry, John couldn't hold back anymore. He came harder than he could ever remember coming in his entire life.

Rodney's held him tight and then rubbed his back as he came down. He was shifting a little restlessly under him, the slick of his come giving him a little extra lubrication.

"You. Want to feel. Need?" John couldn't string together whole sentences yet.

"Yeah," Rodney said, his hands cupping John's ass. "Need to."

John rolled, pulling Rodney with him so the other man was on top. "Take what you need."

Rodney panted into John's skin, but started thrusting into the crease of John's leg. It didn't take long before he was shuddering over him and collapsing down on top of John like a marionette with its strings cut.

Humming, John shifted them again so they could both enjoy the afterglow in comfort.

Rodney's hand rested on John's chest where it had landed, his thumb stroking the skin beneath. "Yeah…" he whispered into John's shoulder, shifting closer.

"Mmmmm. And that was just round one."

"We're a mess."

"Uh huh." John grinned, feeling boneless. "When I can stand again, I'll go get something to clean us up."

"Fun getting there, though."

"Oh hell yes. And we'll be doing that again as soon as I can get it up a second time."

"We have time. Might have to ask Helen to bring up snacks."

"Not just snacks. I plan to be here all night. And maybe part of tomorrow morning, too."

Rodney chuckled. "Good to know. You're a nice addition to my bed."

John smiled and stretched, feeling gratified by the slight hitch that earned him in Rodney's breath. "If you'll have me, I'll be here every night decorating it for you."

"You're definitely not a throw pillow. Too boney for that."

"I plan to do more than just lie around, so that's not a bad thing."

"Good to know." Rodney was silent for a few minutes, his finger still rubbing a gentle pattern on John's chest. "Are we going to talk about this? I just slept with my pilot."

"What's there to talk about? I want to be your lover who also happens to be a pilot and flies you places."

"You're on my payroll."

"Take me off it then." John shrugged. "I don't actually need the money. Sex with you and flying the plane when you need work just fine for me."

Rodney shook his head. "No. We should…see how this goes. I don't want to rush into anything."

John pulled Rodney in for another brief, but intense kiss. "To be honest, I don't care how you make it work in your own mind. All I want is this, with you. And the plane. I really like flying the plane."

"Of course you do. It's a great plane."

John chuckled. "But if I had to choose, I'd take sex with you. It was better than flying, and I never thought I would say that."

"You can't say that definitively. We've only had sex once—and it was frottage." He shifted upon to an elbow, looking down at John. "Let's see how things go. Okay?"

John smiled, but nodded. He didn't know why, but he felt drawn to this man. As absolutely corny as it sounded, even in his own head, it was like he was meant to be here with Rodney, like this.

"Shower?"

"Together?"

"It's certainly big enough. I honestly don’t think you want to walk downstairs with dried come on you."

John chuckled again and sat up, getting to his feet before reaching a hand down to pull Rodney up with him. "And that means we can have shower sex."

"I need more time between than that," Rodney grumbled, but let John lead him to the bathroom. And Rodney had been right—the shower was huge and had multiple showerheads.

Humming to himself, John got the water going, then shepherded McKay into the water. He slapped his hands away when he went for the soap. "Let me."

"Hey!" he complained, scowling up at John as he rubbed the back of his hand. "That was uncalled for violence."

John took his hand and kissed it. "Better now?"

"No," Rodney pouted, even as he shifted closer.

"Hmm, I'll have to try harder then." John soaped up a washcloth and began to very carefully clean every part of Rodney's body, trailing it with kisses as the suds washed away.

When John was finished, Rodney wasn't hard, but he was trembling with pleasure. He tugged John up, fingers threading in John's hair as he pressed him up against the wall and kissed him.

John opened up, letting the other man in. This intimacy, this was what he wanted, what he had been craving all his life and didn't realize it.

They tumbled wet back into bed, a trail of water leading from the bathroom to the bed. The shower was still on in the background, but nothing else mattered except the slide of slick wet skin.

John took his time, lavishing attention on every inch of Rodney's skin, licking away the water, making sure he knew the taste and texture of Rodney's body from head to toe.

They wrestled back and forth, each one taking the lead for a time before the other couldn't wait any longer and flipped them over again. The bedspread would never be the same again.

John didn't know when he had gotten hard again, but the sensual rubbing had him panting after a while. "Rodney. Please."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Rodney said, pressing kisses up the side of John's neck.

Shivering, John licked his lips. "Would you… would you blow me?"

Rodney shifted up, smiling down at John. "That what you want?"

"Yes. God, yes, please..."

Rodney shuffled down John's body, hands pressed along John's sides, fingers skimming his hip bones. He took one look at John's cock, bobbing up toward his stomach, and then just…swallowed him down. If Rodney hadn't been holding him down, John knew he would have choked the other man.

John lost all ability to be coherent at that point. He knew those hands were talented, and Rodney had an amazing mouth, but Christ. The man was a cock-sucking God.

Rodney tapped him on the hip at one point when he backed off from sucking him, making John lift his head to look down at Rodney. Rodney who had his mouth wrapped around John's cock and was looking up at him with those brilliant blue eyes.

John's breath caught, and he moaned, unable to look away or form actual words.

Rodney chuckled, the vibration sending pleasure through him. And then he started sucking again, holding John's gaze.

Breath catching, John was mesmerized. He didn't want it to end, but he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

Rodney eventually closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the sensation. His hands stroked John's sides, his talented fingers finding sensitive spots.

John finally couldn't hold back any more. With an inarticulate cry, he came.

Rodney swallowed everything down, helping him through his release and gentling him toward the end. He licked him clean before crawling up to lie down beside him, head pillowed on his chest.

"Ugger."

"Hmm?"

"Awesome." It took him a few tries, but John finally managed to get an actual word out.

Rodney chuckled. "Glad you approve."

"You are a god."

"Yes, well. Genius. Helps that I like cock, too."

"God." John hummed and curled his body into Rodney's. "When I can feel my toes again, I'll return the favor."

"I can wait, but not too long." He paused. "I think the shower's still on."

John hummed again, and started to stroke along Rodney's sides.

"I know I should be more concerned about wasting water. Although, I don't have an unending supply of hot water."

"We can turn it off in a few minutes. This is more important." John sat up and began to kiss his way down Rodney's body again.

"If there's no hot water when we need to shower, we'll care."

John decided to take it as a challenge to make the other man forget about the shower.

"I should probably put in a new water heater. It's old."

Humming, John made his way down to Rodney's cock, which was bobbing away, despite the talk of water heaters. Starting at the base, John licked a long, slow line all the way along the length.

"Oh." He shifted, propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at John. "What are you doing?"

John just hummed again, and went back to licking. He loved sucking cock, and wanted to drag it out for a bit, tease Rodney into being as incoherent as he had been.

"Hey," he said, waiting for John to look up at him. "You don't have to reciprocate if you don't want."

John rolled his eyes. "What part of being a gay man did you not get with me? I could probably spend an hour sucking your cock and be incredibly happy doing it. Now lay back and let me have my fun."

Rodney snorted. "I just didn’t want you to feel pressured," he said, leaning back. He spread his legs a little more. "Have at it, then."

Making a happy noise, John went back to learning the size, weight, taste, and texture of Rodney's cock with his tongue.

It was a good size, not too big, not too small. And it seemed to really like the attention John was giving it.

When he finally took all of Rodney in his mouth, instead of just teasing the tip, he got a very ego-boosting set of noises.

Rodney half thrust up, stopping himself before he shoved his cock deeper into John's mouth.

John pulled off for a moment. "I have almost no gag reflex, so don't hold back."

Rodney groaned deep in his throat. "God, that's hot."

John waited to go back down on Rodney to hum his thanks for the compliment.

Curling his hands into the sheets, Rodney moaned in pleasure.

John took his time, trying out different angles and techniques, wanting to learn what Rodney liked best.

Just as his jaw was starting to ache a little, Rodney was starting to make these needy, desperate sounds, his body trembling and shifting almost constantly. His hips kept giving involuntary jerks up.

John took that as his cue to add a little more speed and suction, and a few extra twirly things with his tongue for good measure.

Rodney grunted and then moaned as his body thrust up again, but this time he started to come, pouring down John's throat.

John continued to suck until there was no more, then carefully backed off, making sure to lick away any traces that might have escaped.

When he was done, he glanced up Rodney's body and smiled. Rodney looked wrecked. He looked nearly boneless, his chest rising and falling as he panted, catching his breath.

John wormed his way back up the bed, so their bodies were pressed together once more.

A few minutes later, Rodney finally shifted, turning in toward John. "B'ket," he muttered into his neck.

"Hmm?"

"Cold."

John reached around to snag the comforter and tug it over them as much as he was able. He also curled closer into Rodney, wrapping his arms around him.

"And turn off the damn water."

John laughed softly. "I'll be right back then."

It didn't take long for him to pad across the room and into the bathroom. The steam had long since dissipated the water running cold from the shower heads.

John shut everything off, hoping Rodney wouldn't want to shower again before the hot water could regenerate.

He took a minute to look at himself in the mirror. He was one lucky bastard, that much was true.

Grinning, John padded back out. Rodney hadn't moved, so John went to his side. "Before I lay back down, want me to call for something to eat?"

Rodney opened an eye and then lifted the blanket. "In."

John didn't need to be asked twice.

As soon as he was settled next to him, the blanket pulled up over them, Rodney curled into him, more or less using him as a body pillow.

John relaxed, content to just lie here and enjoy the feel of Rodney's body against him.

He could get used to this.


	2. Chapter 2

Regular sex was a nice thing.

It had been two weeks since he'd taken John Sheppard to his bed and he was gloriously exhausted. Sheppard—John—was beautiful and well hung. They'd avoided fucking so far, deciding to stick with frottage and hand jobs and blow jobs until things proceeded a little further. Honestly, Rodney was a little upset with himself for insisting on going slow because every time he took one look at John's cock he wanted it inside of him.

His entire in-house staff just looked at him affectionately and smiled when he complained he was tired or had a sore muscle. It was a little disconcerting, in all honesty, but he was too content to care.

Nathalie was a week into her new job as his personal assistant and each and every day he went into his office he discovered something new either on his computer or in the room itself. There were new computer upgrades already in the works. New software upgrades. Hell, there was a new desk chair on order for him because she claimed she hated listening to him complain about his back after he was working at his desk for a few hours.

At one point, he asked if a computer store had thrown up in his office's anteroom. The latest Blackberry smart phones—still pretty new technology—were issued to everyone on staff and the calendars were synched so everyone received an update as soon as a change was made.

She had been working with Steve to go through the background of every single one of Rodney's employees. They'd already red-flagged a few of them and after some more investigation on Steve's part they might end up terminated.

It was like she'd taken over his entire life. Hell, she'd even called up Carson Beckett and scheduled a physical—and arranged for him to come to the Island for it—since he was overdue.

He complained and railed against the intrusion into his personal life, but Nathalie looked him in the eyes and asked him if he wanted to drop dead from something Carson could prevent if he had gotten regular check-ups. He'd turned to John but discovered the traitor had retreated to the other room so he didn't have to get involved in the argument.

Carson was scheduled to arrive tomorrow.

John came wandering into his office, plopping down at what had more or less become his desk. "Morning."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, annoyed that he'd had to leave John in his bed for a conference call.

John chuckled. "So, I have to run out for a bit to the condo to pick up some clean clothes." He paused. "Do you mind if I bring a few other things over so I don't have to go back and forth?"

"What do you have left over there anyway? I swear you've already taken over half of my closet."

"Mostly my personal things, like a poster in my bedroom and my flight gear."

Rodney turned his chair toward him. "I thought we were keeping things casual."

"That's why I'm asking before I just move the rest of my stuff into your room."

"Don't you," he waved his hands, "want your own space?"

"Not particularly. This house is huge, and when I do go out to the condo lately, it's kind of empty and boring. I'd rather be here, with you, honestly. But if it bothers you, I can drop it."

"I'm not saying it bothers me. I just…I don't want you to feel like I forced you into something and regret this later on."

"Rodney, I'm the one who pretty much wanted to jump into a full relationship with you, remember? I won't regret it."

"Yeah, well, and things change. I know I'm not exactly the easiest person to get along with."

"I've known you for several months, and been sleeping with you for several weeks. I know your faults. I think they're sexy."

Rodney snorted. "Right. If that's the case then I'm going to have Carson examine your head for brain injuries."

John rose and came around. He took Rodney by surprise with a fierce kiss. "Why is it so hard to believe that I like you?"

"Because I know me." He sighed, not up to arguing. He had to be on a conference call with a company about a possible job in a little while. He really wanted the contract and he couldn't afford to screw it up. "Look. I'm not going to tell you no about moving your stuff. It's up to you."

"Good." John leaned in for another kiss. "Good luck on the call. I know how much you want this one."

"If you keep doing that I'm going to have a hard-on when I’m on the call and I'm not going to be able to concentrate."

The chuckle he got was dirty. "I don't know, it might help sharpen your focus."

"No, it won't. Go do something useful," he said, shoving John away. "Go pester Steve or Nathalie or someone other than me."

His lover laughed, which sent a thrill down Rodney's spine. "I'll go. I actually want to swing by the hangar and check on the plane since we haven't used it in a few weeks, too. So I'll be gone most of the afternoon, but I'll be back before dinner tonight."

"Good. Make sure you tell Helen if you want something special for dinner. She'll make anything you want."

"Whatever you're in the mood for is fine with me."

"You keep telling me that. Would you just pick something?"

"I'm not fussy like you are. I can eat almost anything."

"How hard is it for you to follow simple instructions?" Rodney asked, shaking his head as he turned back to his computer.

John's laugh as he headed out drifted back to Rodney, making his cock twitch again.

Rodney forced himself to get lost in his equations until Nathalie buzzed his intercom letting him know his conference call was on line.

"I have the login's ready on your second computer for the presentation, and when you're set, I'll transfer the call to the phone in there."

"The meeting's now?"

"It's actually about ten minutes from now, since I knew you would want a few minutes to get settled and pull away from your equations."

He glanced up even though he know she couldn't see him. He was surprised she'd actually thought about that. "Oh. Right. So it's all ready to go?" He saved what he was working on and switched to the other computer.

"Yes. You're logged in to the video conferencing site, with the presentation loaded. I also have any documents I thought you might need open in the background in case you need to pull them up."

"How'd you do that from in there?"

"Remote login."

"I gave you permission to do that? A lot of what I work on is very sensitive information."

"I have full security clearance from your staff, and I also don't understand pretty much any of it. I only use it for things like this, where I'm setting up documents for you to use."

Rodney snorted. "Fine. Give me five minutes to get set up."

"Will do. Buzz me on the intercom when you're ready for me to put it through."

He quickly got everything set up for the presentation. The US government was looking for contractors to help them with some of their power issues. They disliked having to rely on foreign powers for fuel and had been looking for alternatives sources.

But the age-old problem still remained: there was no way to store energy once it was created. With the threat of terrorism still hovering, they were looking for better ways to secure highly sensitive buildings. Generators were okay, but what if the building could create and store energy for future use—much like a rechargeable battery.

He had a few ideas—some of them based on his parallel universe energy theory. He knew he was a shoe-in and he could use the recurring contract.

He hit the intercom. "I’m ready. Put me through."

"Good luck, Doctor." The phone dinged, and then he heard the sound of other people joining the call.

"This is Doctor Rodney McKay. Who's on the call?"

"Ah, Docto McKay, right on time. I'm General Johnathan Piston, and with me are several of my advisors and leads for this project."

"Good good. If you're ready and everyone's here I can get started. Can you see the screen on your own computer?"

"We're pulling it up now, and have it on a projector screen so everyone can view it. We're ready when you are, Doctor."

"If you can, hold all questions to the end," he said as he started his presentation, easily moving through all the points he needed to bring up and remembering to dumb it down for them. There was no reason to confuse them with highly technical terms. He wanted the job. It would mean at least five years of work and a boatload of money.

As he wrapped up, the General was the first to jump in. "What kind of time frame do you think you would be looking at to develop something like this, and would it be applicable to older buildings as well as new?"

"It can be retrofitted for any building, yes. The full program would take five years—as per your outline. Once the…batteries, for lack of a better term, were created, we would roll them out across your network from the highest priority buildings to the lowest priority."

"And how secure would they be to tampering?"

"That would be based upon where you would want them located. We'd work with you to place them exactly where you want."

"Many of the proposals I've heard could be, without much effort, converted into a weapon of mass destruction without much effort, given the nature of power storage. What steps would you take to ensure your proposed system wouldn't turn a building into a time bomb?"

"It would be secured, of course, and placed in a location that you would determine to be secure. The system itself would be under the highest level of encryption."

"How large or small do you anticipate the final product would be?"

"It would depend upon the requirements for each building. It's not a one size fits all type of thing. The more energy storage required, the larger it would be. Based on your requirements, I would say the largest would be comparable to a commercial generator."

"Hmm, that's actually not bad. Do you think, given the right resources and time, you could get it even smaller? Ideally I'd like to see something about half that size, since that would be much easier to bury in the building where it would be difficult for an outside party to tamper with it."

"It would take more time on the development end. How much, I don't know. We based our designs on your specs."

"Yes, I do understand that, but I can see, in your designs, where we might have underestimated what's possible. I know you can't work miracles, but if we hire you, I would like that to be a priority. If you could find a way to condense the size without losing capacity, it would be the ideal for the project long-term."

"Anything is possible, General."

"Fantastic. You've given me a lot to think about Doctor McKay. I'll be making my final decision on the contractor to go with by the end of this week, and will be in touch with you one way or the other to let you know what we decide."

"The faster you decide on the final specs, the faster we can create what you need. I know you were very pleased with the last project I worked with you on."

"Yes, and to be honest, you're my favorite so far, but I'd like to hear the final recommendations from my staff before I officially decide anything. If I decide sooner, you'll be the first to know."

"I understand, General." Rodney frowned to himself. He'd been hoping to lock this down now. "I'll wait to hear from you by the end of the week."

"Thank you, Doctor McKay. I appreciate all your work on this presentation."

He nodded and signed off of the conference call. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. That had gone well, but not as well as he would have liked.

Nathalie came in a few minutes later. "I saw the light go off on the phone. How did it go?"

"Good. But not good enough."

She nodded. "What can I put together to send them as a follow-up to tip the scales in your favor?"

"Nothing. It's a waiting game at this point."

"All right. So what else do you need to get done in the meantime?"

"I need to go to the labs, but I don't think I'm allowed yet. I need to yell at a few very deserving scientists."

"Give me an hour and I'll coordinate the visit with security."

"Steve's not going to let me go there. The place hasn't been checked yet."

"I'll see what I can find out. If you'll agree to a security team going with you, he probably won't object."

He gave her an annoyed look. "Since when am I allowed anywhere without a team?"

She grinned at him. "I'll keep you posted on what he says."

He waved her off, watching as she walked out of his office, closing his door behind him. He knew he should do some more work on his equations, but he didn't want to. He'd rather take a tumble in his bed with a certain pilot, but John was working.

He sighed. Carson would be here in the morning and he'd have to go through a slew of tests. He knew he wasn't looking forward to that.

About fifteen minutes later, Nathalie returned. "Okay, Steve says as long as you don't try to ditch the three men who will be with you, including him, he's okay with you going to the labs. Also, I just got a call from a convention that wants you to speak next month. I explained the new policies on booking in advance, and they're willing to pay the $1 million rush fee to book you, if you're interested."

He leaned back in his chair and looked up at her. "Where is it and what do they want me to talk about?"

"It's in the United States, Las Vegas actually. It's a small convention on the physics of space time."

"Huh."

"I emailed you the information on the conference, so let me know if you're interested, and I'll make the arrangements and add it to your calendar."

"How much are they paying besides the rush fee?"

"On top of the $1 million rush fee, they would also pay the $500,000 speaking fee, plus all of your expenses, including paying for the fuel for your plane there and back, and accommodations for you and any of your staff you bring."

"Huh." He thought for a minute. He hadn't been to Vegas in a while. It might be fun with John. "Sure. Schedule it."

She nodded. "Who, besides John, will be going? Do you want me to coordinate with Steve first on the security contingent?"

"You're going to have to. Do whatever Steve needs. If he wants advance access to the facility for security checks, make it happen."

"Will do. I'll put it on your schedule and make sure everyone has all the available information."

Rodney ended up spending the day berating his minions. He hadn't been there in weeks and it was way past time for him to put them in their place. By the time he was finished, he'd fired four for stupidity, had another ten crying, and had another five on probation. Just because he didn't come in didn't mean he wasn't paying attention.

He was beautifully exhausted when John finished with him later that night.

Carson showed up first thing in the morning, way too perky and happy.

"Well now, I hear you've made quite a bit of changes, have you now, lad?"

Rodney glared at him over his coffee cup. "Did you enjoy the frisking on your way in?"

"Aye, they were verra polite about it, and it wasn'a anything you shouldn't have been doing in the first place."

He scowled and gestured for Carson to sit. "I’m surprised you came back."

"Why would I not, lad?"

"Well, I didn't think we'd really parted on good terms. And I haven't talked to you since."

Carson rolled his eyes. "We parted just fine, lad. I'm used to your prickly moods by now. We havena talked because you've been busy, and for once I have as well. I've gotten a job offer, and I've been weighing the pros and cons of it."

"A job offer?" Rodney raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his coffee. From the sounds of it, he was going to need every last bit of strength for it.

"Aye. Working on cutting edge genetics in the United States. It's a classified position, but I'd have the run of my own lab, as well as access to research years ahead of what I've been doing."

Rodney stilled. "A classified position. Where? With who?"

"Aye. It's with a program with the government, based in Colorado, I believe. From the little they've shown me as an example… well, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to turn this down. I have my reservations though, so I havena made up my mind yet."

Colorado. Sam was in Colorado at a classified research base. He didn't want to lose someone else to that… "Don't do it."

Carson raised an eyebrow. "Why not? It isna like I'd be on the other end of the universe, Rodney. While I probably wouldna be able to be your personal physician anymore being that far away, I wouldna be disappearing. You can't get rid of me that easily, lad."

"I'll build you a lab. Fund the whole thing. You can hire whoever you want. Don't take the job."

Carson blinked again. "While that's verra generous of you Rodney, it isna necessary. I am happy with my little lab in Scotland—if I take this job, it will be for the access to additional research it would provide me."

"You can hire whoever you want. You can make it a genetic research center for the world." He leaned forward. "While I might think it's a soft science and more voodoo than anything, I'm willing to put my money where my mouth is. We can find a place in Scotland so you can be near your mom."

"I… Rodney. That's… why would you do that? You've never been interested in my genetics work before."

"Let it not be said that Rodney McKay didn't care about the welfare of his friends. So, we're settled? We can start looking for property tomorrow."

Carson opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Can I have a few days to think about it? This is a lot to take in."

"Of course, of course. We can wait until next week to look for property. But don't want too long. I'm headed to Vegas for a lecture in a few weeks and I'd like to be on site to look over the properties before we buy one."

"Why are you going to Las Vegas?"

"Physics conference," he said, leaning back in his chair, hoping that this "job thing" Carson had been thinking about was concluded. "They want me to speak and are willing to pay for the last-minute booking."

"I've never been there, but I hear it's a flashy place. You should get out and have a little fun while you're there. It would do you good."

Rodney blinked at his friend. "You've never been to Vegas?"

"I've never had a reason to go there."

"You should come." Rodney paused, tilting his head to the side. Had he just invited Carson to go on vacation with him?

Carson blinked. "You want me to go to Las Vegas with you? What would I do? While I won't deny I could use a vacation, it's really work for you."

"I have…one, maybe two speaking engagements. We can plan something as long as we arrange it with my security. Everyone has to go to Vegas at least once."

"Are you sure no one would mind? Aren't you dating your pilot now?"

"It's my decision," Rodney said bristling a little. "And yes, I am dating him, but that's not the point. It's not like you'll be staying in my room. I think we're renting at least ten rooms."

"I wasna asking if you had to ask permission, I just didna want to step on any toes."

"I invited you." He went to take a sip of his coffee only to discover the mug was empty. "I guess you've met the holy terror who is also my personal assistant."

Carson laughed. "Aye, she seems like a good lass who will keep you on track. I've been telling you for years to get someone to help you with things like that. It's nice to see you're finally listening."

"I didn't have much of a choice." Rodney got up and poured himself another mug of coffee. He held up the pot toward Carson, who nodded. He started pouring a second cup for his friend. "Steve and John forced my hand. Well, Steve did because he fired the last one. And John did because he was sick and tired of dealing with my personal crap and all the stupid phone calls."

"Well, whatever the reason, she's a good choice." Carson laughed and shook his head. "How have you been feeling lately?"

Rodney shrugged, bringing the coffee cup to him. Milk and sugar was already on the table. "Honestly, John wears me out. Not that I'm complaining, but he's my age and his stamina…" Rodney sighed.

Carson just laughed again. "He's good for you. You need someone to push you physically instead of sitting around all day in front of your computers."

"There's nothing wrong with what I do," he huffed.

"Nothing that regular exercise canna fix, at least."

"And I don't think you're going to tell me to have more sex," Rodney said, slumping back down into his chair. "I will need a new prescription for epi pens. All of mine are pretty old now and probably need to be replaced."

"Aye, I've actually got that on my list. Your new security chief has also asked if, with your permission, I can release to him a list of everything you're allergic too. He's already started asking me about setting up a small class for him and some of his hand-picked people on how to spot a reaction early, what kinds of signs they need to be on the lookout for, and how to both carry and administer medication safely if it was necessary."

Rodney sighed and nodded. Steve had talked to him about it, and he'd agreed it wasn't a bad idea. "Yes. You can work directly with Nathalie and Steve on that."

"Excellent. It isna a bad idea to have the people who will be closest to you knowledgeable about what to watch for."

"I just hate it. I've had to deal with these…medical conditions all my life. I'd like doctors to actually do something about it one of these days instead of just making excuses."

"Well, with my genetics research, I might be able to find a way to do just that. Curing disease by attacking it at the cellular level and understanding how our bodies end up with things like allergies is one of my goals."

"Finally. Something I can get behind."

Carson chuckled. "I dinna know if I'll be able to completely cure allergies of your severity in our lifetime, but I hope to find a way to take them from life-threatening to merely annoying."

"Good, good. It's about time. So, is that all you need from me? I can head to my office and get some work done." Rodney stood, draining the last of his coffee. Nathalie had a pot brewing in her office so he'd grab more there.

"Not so fast, lad. You havena had a full physical done in a while, and I'd like to see how that bullet hole is healing up. Your assistant already cleared your schedule for the day for me."

"What! I don't have time for a full day of tests."

"Aye, you do!" Carson stood up and gave him a cheery grin. "I already checked."

"That's just…unfair."

Carson laughed, but shrugged. "You've been avoiding it for too long. This is for your own good, lad."

Rodney scowled at his friend. It was very unfair. "I'm doing this under protest."

"Aye, I assumed as much."

Rodney sighed. "So where is this torture taking place?"

"Wherever you'd be most comfortable."

"You tell me. You're the one who set up your equipment somewhere in the house. I know I didn't."

"Your men said they would bring it wherever we needed it. I believe they wanted an excuse to go over it all to check for security risks anyway."

Rodney closed his eyes and counted to ten. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Steve. He started speaking before Steve even said hello. "Where did you put Carson's equipment?"

"The medical stuff? I had my boys set it up for you in the sitting room off your bedroom."

"Why there?"

"Seemed like the best place for it. Private but not your bedroom, enough space to set everything up, etcetera."

Rodney sighed. "Fine. Is it set up?"

"I believe they're putting the last of it there now. If you're heading that way, they should be out before you arrive."

"Fine." He punched the off button and pocketed the phone. "We have to go to the third floor. They decided to lug everything up there."

"That seems like a walk. Is it in your bedroom then?"

"One of the rooms adjacent to it, yes," he said, heading for the stairs. "I like my privacy, but after the two attempts on my life I've had to change the way I was thinking about my safety and security."

"Two?"

"Well, the shooting was one. I was also kidnapped when I was in Hawaii."

Carson stopped dead and turned white. "What? I didna hear about that!"

"Well, it's not something I go out and publicize. It was only for a few hours and I was actually unconscious for just about all of it."

"My god, Rodney. No wonder you've beefed up security!"

He shrugged again. "It happened. It's in the past. It's fine."

Carson shook his head. "Do they know who did it?"

"No, not really. They know of a few people who were involved, but not who was behind it." He waved his hand as if he could shoo it away like a fly. "It's in the past. I have Steve and he made sure my security is top notch."

"They're still looking though, I hope."

"I assume so. It's Steve's thing, so I don’t' have to worry about it." They reached the top floor of the house and Rodney gestured Carson forward. "They should have put your stuff in here."

"Where did you find him? I know the last time we talked, you were adamant that you didn't need someone like him."

"He's a friend of John's. He was part of a special team in Hawaii. He seems to know what he's doing." Sure enough, Rodney found all of Carson's stuff piled into his sitting room.

"And how did you and—John is it now—end up together? I thought you were strongly against even the idea?"

"It just…happened. I didn't plan it and I protested that it was inappropriate, but John is a bit…persuasive. We're taking it slow."

Carson stared at him for a moment, then started laughing. "Aye he is good for you."

Rodney ducked his head and blushed. "Yeah, fine. Go ahead and make fun. I had to tell Ryan not to come. I had already made arrangements for him to come up for a week."

"You won't find me crying over that. Ryan was a bloody gold digger."

"He was a friend!" He paused, making a face. "I’m not sure that's the case now, but he was a friend."

"No, he wasna a friend. He just wanted you for your money, Rodney.

"Look. I'm not going to argue about it with you." He huffed and sank down on the nearest chair. "Needless to say, he's not coming here anytime soon. John was quite adamant about that part."

"Good for him." Carson had started rearranging equipment and getting everything ready. "But how do you feel about it? John I mean. Are you happy with him?"

"God. He's like a wet dream."

Carson chuckled. "But other than the physical, does he make you happy?"

Rodney shrugged. "I guess. I haven't really thought about it. The sex is pretty great and we haven't even gotten around to the actual fucking yet."

"Sex is only part of the equation, Rodney."

"I guess for some people it is."

"No, it isna. It might be for a little while, but I don't get the impression he just wants to sleep with you for a while then leave."

"What does it matter?"

"I'm your friend and I want to see you happy."

"Happiness isn't real. It's just what tree hugging hippies sing about."

"It's not easy, no. And even when you find someone you love, it's not always sunshine and roses. But happiness is out there, if you're willing to take a risk with your heart."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Did you turn into a twelve-year-old girl when I wasn't looking?"

"It's called being a romantic, Rodney."

"Whatever. So what torture do you have planned for me today?"

"You'll be getting a full physical."

Rodney sighed. "So get on with it already."

Carson was thorough but by the end of the exam, Rodney had had enough of the touching and poking and prodding. There was no way in hell he wanted anyone to touch him for the foreseeable future.

And there was no way in hell anyone was going to go playing with his prostate anytime soon. That had been so unsexy and downright humiliating—especially when he got the safe sex lecture from Carson for the fiftieth time.

When they were done, they headed down to the dining room, where John and Steve and Danny were waiting for them.

Rodney headed right for the coffee, ignoring the lot of them.

While the others chatted, John came up next to him and leaned against the table. "All healthy?"

"I guess so. You'd have to ask Carson about the specifics."

"You okay? You seem a little frazzled."

"I've been poked and prodded in places no one should go. I feel like I should take a shower or something." He shuddered a little, looking through the food that was out on the buffet. "I still think he has a few more tests to do yet, but he let me have a break so I could eat something."

John reached out hesitantly. "If you need to call it a day, you can."

"He goes home tonight."

"We can extend it a day. I'm sure he won't mind."

"I just want to be done," Rodney grumbled. "I avoid it because I hate the whole exam."

"I know. No one likes it, but you know it's important, especially with your allergies."

"I understand the whys—and that's why I agreed to it in the first place—but it doesn't mean I like the process."

"I know." John leaned and brushed a light kiss across Rodney's lips. "When it's all done, I'll try to make it up to you, okay?"

Rodney drew back sharply. "I don’t know if that's really…" Rodney sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not going to be up for much."

"I don't want much. I just want to give you whatever you need." John gave him a small smile. "How about a movie and some popcorn on the couch?"

Rodney shrugged. "Maybe."

"Just let me know, okay. Whatever you need."

Rodney nodded, bringing a half-plate of food and his coffee to the table.

The group chatted quietly as they ate, seeming to catch Rodney's mood. No one asked much of him, at least.

At one point, he noticed that John pulled Carson to the side and they were talking quietly. He ignored them, concentrating on his food and coffee. Carson had been on him about limiting his intake again. If the Scottish bastard got to Nathalie and John all hopes for his afternoon coffee would be gone.

When they sat back down, Carson smiled at him. "Well lad, if you can have your men pack up my things for me, I'll be out of your hair for the night. Am I still invited to go to Las Vegas?"

"Of course." Rodney looked at him quizzically. "Why wouldn't you be? And you can ask them to do whatever you want."

"I dinna want to simply help myself to your men, Rodney." Carson smiled. "And I was just makin' sure you dinna hate me now that I've given you the exam."

"They're here to carry and lug stuff around. That's their job." He sighed. "And no. I'm not. I just…you know how I am with stuff like this."

"Aye. I know it isna pleasant, but I'm grateful you dinna fight me too hard on it. Your health is too important not to keep on top of things."

"My health is fine. You know I'd call you at the first sign it wasn't."

"Aye, but a lot of problems, if caught before there are any overt signs, can be dealt with and not be an issue. But if you leave some things until you're feeling them, it's more complicated. I'd rather be proactive. Speaking of which, now that you've got a staff, you'll be wanting to require them to have full workups as well. If you'd like I can take these lads on here as my patients, but you'll need to find someone local for the rest of the staff. Unfortunately I just don't have the time to give to all of them."

"I…yes. That's probably a good idea."

Rodney had to admit to a certain amount of perverse pleasure at the way John, Steve and Danny all blanched. "Why don't I leave the equipment here, then, for now, and I can come back next week to do these lads?"

"If that works with your schedule, it's fine with me."

"Aye, it will work." Carson smiled at them. "If you're going to be taking care of my Rodney's safety, I have to make sure the lot of you are healthy as well."

Rodney nearly chuckled at the stuttered replies Carson received.

"It's settled then. I'll need about a day a piece since I'll be starting from scratch, so I'll just plan to be here a few days."

Steve pulled Carson and John to the side to talk about the arrangements for next week. Rodney was sure Carson would add in a few more tests for him at the time and he'd probably get a stricter diet plan. Rodney knew from his friend's face he wasn't happy about his blood pressure and weight.

Rodney dumped his dirty dishes and headed upstairs for a little peace and quiet. With the late lunch he wouldn't need a big meal later, but for now he needed the separation.

He jumped in the shower first thing, washing off the feel of the exam. He let the water pound into the tense muscles of his back, the heat easing them a little.

"If you're up for some company, I could work on some of those knots for you."

Rodney glanced up, looking over his shoulder. John was hovering just outside the glass shower enclosure. He took a breath and let it out slowly. The thought of someone else touching him kind of put him off, but this was John. And with John it was all about pleasure.

"Sure, but let me get out of here. The bed would be easier."

"All right." John stepped back and let him step out.

Rodney pulled the towel off the hook on the wall and dried himself off quickly, before slinging it around his waist. "Carson headed home?"

"Yeah. Danny is driving him to the airport."

"Good, good." He climbed up onto his king-sized bed and settled in the middle. He turned his head toward John. "This okay?"

"Perfect." John climbed onto the bed next to him, with a bottle of oil.

John had left all his clothes on, just toeing off his shoes. "You're going to get it all over your clothes and I don't know if it'll come out."

"I can buy new." John poured oil into his hands and started rubbing it into Rodney's back. "Just relax."

"No, it's okay. I want you to be comfortable."

John huffed, but stopped long enough to strip off his shirt. Then, pausing, he slid off the bed and shimmied out of his jeans. "Better?"

Rodney nodded, closing his eyes and resting his head on his folded arms. "Much. I don't feel as guilty if you get your boxers dirty. That happens all the time."

John's chuckle rolled over him as the man's hands started to slowly work out the kinks in his back.

He moaned in relief as John's very talented hands worked his back, loosening the muscles.

"I've been wanting to do this since we met. I can't imagine how you walk around with your muscles like that."

"Oh god, you can do this any time you want. I will never turn down having your hands on me—even after my Carson freak out."

That got another chuckle from the man systematically turning him into a puddle. "I might have to make this at the very least a weekly thing, then. Keep you from tensing up again."

"Twice weekly."

"Deal."

John's hands were magic. They had to be. Otherwise how could he do this?

He kept it up until Rodney felt boneless. He hadn't been this relaxed in... well, he couldn't remember.

He hummed, hovering halfway between sleep and awake. He felt John shifting away. "Don't go."

"Okay. Just let me put the oil away. I'll be right back."

"Better."

John's chuckle was soft and deep, and moments later, he was curling against Rodney's body, flinging an arm over him.

Something unclenched inside of him as soon as John settled beside him. He shifted a little, edging closer. He turned his head toward John, blinking at him. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that."

John pressed a light kiss to Rodney's lips. "I wanted to. Now nap so all that hard work doesn't go to waste."

"Nap? Who wants to nap?"

"Mmm, me? I like napping, especially when I have a warm, relaxed partner to snuggle with."

Rodney snorted. "Should pull the blanket up if you intend to stay warm then."

"You won't stay in bed with me? Maybe I need to do a better job at persuading you then."

Rodney raised an eyebrow. "Think you can?"

John gave him a lazy grin, then rolled them so he was on top. "I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be."

"Oh can you now?" Rodney asked, returning the smile. He reached around, cupping John' ass.

With a soft moan, John rubbed against him, then lowered his head to take one of Rodney's nipples between his lips.

Driving Rodney crazy by playing with his nipples was one of John's favorite things to do. This time it was different, though. He was all relaxed and mushy, so the arousal that started was like a slow burn.

John seemed to pick up on that. Instead of a fast rush, this felt more like... a seduction.

Rodney moaned as John tugged and played with one nipple with his teeth, his left hand teasing and tweaking the other nipple. Rodney could feel himself hardening, relishing the sensations John brought his body.

John stayed there for a long time before slowly working his way south. It wasn't even a mad dash to his cock then. In fact, John seemed intent on kissing everything except his cock.

And oddly enough, that was perfectly fine with Rodney. He loved the feeling of arousal, loved how the sensations buffered him. John made him cry out in pleasure as he bit down along the inside of his thigh, soothing away the hurt with his tongue moments later.

John worked his way all the way down one leg, even kissing Rodney's toes, before working his way back up the other.

His nipples received more attention as John made his way back up his chest. Once Rodney was vibrating with pleasure, John carefully rolled him and started all over again on his back. He kissed and nipped and sucked at the skin, making marks as he went.

When he got to Rodney's ass, he started out kissing every inch. Before Rodney could guess what was coming next, a tongue pushed inside him.

Rodney yelled in surprise, not sure if he should pull away or if he wanted more. He turned his head, panting into the bed as John continued to tease him, rimming his hole.

The other man hummed, and Rodney saw the desire in his eyes as he looked up briefly before really teaching Rodney what being rimmed meant.

Time had no meaning. All that mattered was John's tongue and the pleasure he brought him.

At some point, a hand snaked around to curl loosely around Rodney's dick, giving him extra jolts of pleasure every time he moved.

He may have been begging—he honestly wasn't sure—but John held him back, not letting him crest over the edge of his arousal. It was sheer pain and pleasure, all wrapped into one. He'd never been so turned on in his life and he didn't want it to end.

Suddenly, when he didn't think he could take any more, John's hand tightened around his dick, and his tongue seemed to touch the core of Rodney's body.

Rodney came hard. Harder than he ever had before. He vaguely wondered if he sprained his dick even as the flash of whiteness faded into black. The next thing he felt was John spooned up behind him, a blanket covering the two of them.

He was... warm. And... safe.

He let out a content huff and shifted, pressing back against John. His lover tightened his grip, pulling him closer, breath tickling the back of Rodney's neck.

This was nice.

More than nice.

Rodney let himself fall asleep in John's arms, knowing he was safe.

 

***

 

John stretched out in the insanely soft and comfortable bed at the THEhotel, the newest on the strip in Las Vegas. Rodney had booked suites for all them—John was sharing his, of course. 

They had gotten in the previous afternoon, and John had immediately crashed, so he hadn’t had a chance to enjoy this pretty magnificent place. He heard someone in the bathroom, so he decided to go see if Rodney was naked. 

He got an eyeful of Rodney's naked ass as soon as he walked in. He was bending over, digging for something under the sink where he'd apparently put his toiletries bag.

John wolf-whistled.

Rodney snapped up and whirled around. He scowled at John. "Why are you up?"

Grinning, John moved forward and wrapped his arms around Rodney, giving him a kiss. "I woke up."

"Apparently. Hi there," he said, kissing John back. "You better now?"

"Yeah, much. Those long flights always leave me needing a nap in a bad way. What have you been up to while I was out?"

"Not much. Steve won't let me out, but Carson and Danny have been wandering around."

"Good. I'm glad Carson is seeing some of the city. We need to find him a woman next."

Rodney snorted. "I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole. The last thing I need is for it to blow up in my face."

"True. I have a bad track record with women anyway. The whole gay thing doesn't translate well to knowing what a woman wants."

"I guess," Rodney said with a shrug. "They were always just a convenient fuck for me."

"I went so far as to actually marry one for a brief, disastrous period. It was a misguided attempt to try and reunite with my father that backfired pretty spectacularly. I think he still likes her better than me."

"Married one, eh?"

"It lasted for about six months."

"Interesting."

"Not so much. My father loved her, and for a very brief period, I think he was actually proud of me. That all went to shit when she left me six months later because I pretty much ignored her and preferred flying to coming home. She suspected I was cheating on her. I wasn't, because I'd never do that, but I wasn't interested in fucking her either."

Rodney shook his head. "So we have a few hours before I have to be at the conference. Have anything in mind? I asked Steve to have food sent up about an hour before we have to leave."

John let a lazy grin curl across his features. "Well, then."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Well, yes, I assumed that would be something you wanted to do."

John chuckled. "What haven't we tried yet? Vegas is a place to let go and be a little wild."

"Is it now?"

"Yes. I do believe it is." They hadn't fucked yet, despite having been together for months now. John took a deep breath swallowed hard. "Will you fuck me?"

"Hmm. I don't know."

John nuzzled into Rodney's neck. "I want you to. I want to feel you inside me."

"And here I thought I was going to be the adventurous one and ask you the same thing—for me. I would still feel it when I was up on stage during my presentation."

John swallowed hard. "God, yes. That."

"Oh, but I don't know. You asked first, but it's just because you beat me to it."

John grinned. "We have time. We could both get fucked today."

"I don't know. If it's done right, we probably don't. But I know I'll be riding pretty high when I get home tonight…"

John grinned. "So I'll fuck you now so you can feel it through the whole presentation, and you can fuck me tonight when you're already on your high. How does that sound?"

"Hmm, that might be a good plan. It should work." Rodney smirked at him.

John grinned and pulled Rodney in for a deep kiss.

Rodney opened up, tilting his head to the side so John could deepen the kiss.

John was content to just kiss him for the moment. He wanted to make this last. He wanted to make it something they would both remember.

Rodney ended up perched on the bathroom counter, legs wrapped around John's waist as they explored each other's mouth.

John ran his hands along Rodney's sides, finding all the spots he had catalogued as pleasurable over the last few months.

Just the thought that Rodney had finally relented and wanted him to fuck him…God. Just that thought was nearly enough to make John come. This was a big step.

He had to make it good. John lifted the other man and got him into the bedroom while barely breaking the kiss.

Rodney hummed appreciatively into the kiss as John settled them on the bed.

Since Rodney was already naked, John decided to kiss every inch of skin, leaving no patch to feel neglected.

"Lube…lube's in the bathroom," Rodney managed to get out at one point.

John hummed.

"You plan to use lube, right?" Rodney asked, shifting up to look down at him.

John looked up. "Yes, Rodney, I plan to use lube, I'm just not going to get it right now. I'm busy."

"Why not? I'm ready."

John grinned. "Oh, you're not even close." He didn't give his lover a chance to respond, taking his cock in his mouth in one swallow.

"Holy crap…fuck…John," Rodney yelled, his back arching as John sucked him.

John hummed around the cock in his mouth, loving the reaction he was getting. He wanted Rodney so hard and desperate that when he did fuck him, he would be incoherent with need.

He shifted on the bed so he could play with Rodney's balls, tugging at them and teasing them as he continued to blow him. Rodney reacted beautifully, clutching the bed and shaking with arousal.

John continued to hum, making sure he moved on to another body part whenever it felt like Rodney might be getting too close to the edge.

He slid his fingers back at one point, grazing Rodney's hole and he got a moan. The puckered little hole twitched at his touch.

John grinned. It was time to move to the next step of Operation Turn Rodney Into a Puddle of Goo.

As soon as John pulled off Rodney's cock, the other man whined, begging John to let him come. His hands reached out, trying to grab John's head to force him back down.

John laughed softly. "I'll be right back. Going to get the lube."

"Nonononono. Don't leave now."

John slid off the bed. "I won't be gone long. I'll be right back."

"Damn you, you bastard, come back here!"

John hurried, grabbing the lube from the bathroom and shedding his boxers before returning to the bedroom.

Rodney was already up on all fours, glaring at John across the room.

Returning to the bed, John grinned. "Now where was I?"

"I don't know. Maybe headed to the couch in the other room to sleep for the rest of the trip."

John reached out to wrap a hand around Rodney's dick, stroking it slowly. "Then you wouldn't get fucked."

Rodney shuddered, swallowing a moan. "Damn you."

"I bet I can get you to say something else." John had flipped the cap of the lube open with his other hand, and he squirted a bit over Rodney's ass before sliding a single finger inside him.

Rodney tried to shift away a little, but between John's grip on his cock and the finger in his ass he had nowhere to go. "God. Bastard."

John chuckled again and set up a gentle rhythm between his hands. He wanted Rodney incoherent, but not ready to come. Yet.

Rodney rocked back and forth, impaling himself on John's fingers one way and thrusting into John' hand the other. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his skin as he worked himself up.

When John judged that he was lost in sensation again, he released Rodney's cock, but inserted a second finger.

Rodney moaned, stuttering to a halt even as he spread his legs wider, thrusting his ass into the air.

God. John had to swallow hard and grip the base of his own cock to make sure he didn't come just from the sight.

"Please…" Rodney breathed.

John swallowed hard. "Soon." He scissored his fingers, starting to really stretch Rodney in earnest.

He added some more lube and another finger, holding his breath as Rodney rocked back into his hand, forcing John's fingers in deeper. He groaned with each and every thrust and every time John stretched him open wider.

John could drool at the picture in his head of how Rodney would look with a big fat dildo in his ass, stretching it open wide. Rodney would moan and groan as John would stretch him, he'd push himself back, impaling himself on it as John pushed the dildo into him. How long would he leave it in, admiring it, as Rodney panted and begged for him to fuck him?

Okay, enough prep. John couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled his fingers free and rolled on the condom he had grabbed with the lube, slicking it up and pressing against Rodney's body. The moan he got from Rodney when his lover realized what was coming was almost enough to end it, but John kept control of himself and wouldn't allow Rodney to rush him. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed.

He pushed Rodney's legs out wider, forcing him open. He wanted…god. He wanted this so much he could taste it. John leaned forward wrapping his arms around Rodney, forcing him to take his weight, too—at least for a little bit. He wanted Rodney to remember this.

Moving almost painfully slowly, John moved in and out until a soft cry and the jerk of Rodney's body told him he had found the right angle. Making sure he was hitting that spot every time, John sped up slightly, but not anywhere near what Rodney wanted, if the noises were any indication.

Rodney was starting to beg—without words—his arms shaking to hold their combined weight.

John couldn't hold back any more. He sat up slightly and pushed Rodney's shoulders down. Then gripping his hips, John started to fuck him in earnest.

Rodney howled. The sound was pure pleasure.

John made sure he was hitting the sweet spot on every pass, and he sped up to the point where Rodney would feel it with every move he made for the rest of the night. John wanted him to know his ass was owned.

There was no one else. No Ryan. No other woman hole to fuck. No other guy. No one else. Just him.

John knew he couldn't keep this pace up long. "You're mine, Rodney. Mine. Come for me. Come now," he growled.

Two more thrusts later and Rodney came—without a hand on his cock. His entire body shuddered and trembled as John continued to pound into him, fucking him through his orgasm.

The tight grip on his cock, feeling Rodney's pleasure, it was enough to take John over the edge. He followed Rodney a few thrusts later, coming so hard his vision swam. He continued to thrust slowly until it was almost painful, then pulled out and fell to the side, pulling Rodney into his arms as he went.

Rodney panted heavily, his body still trembling. He reached out and covered one of John's hands with his own, threading their fingers together.

Incapable of speech yet, John just hummed softly and squeezed.

Yeah. He was a goner. He didn't know if he could do this with someone else. If this is what happened the first time…God. He was a dead man.

 

***

 

After being so thoroughly fucked through the mattress, Rodney was in no mood to get up. They ended up lounging in bed until the food arrived and then it was a mad rush to get up, eat, and get ready for the conference.

He was half ready, to be honest. He was supposed to be working on the rest of his PowerPoint in the hours leading up to the conference, but he'd spent most of the time watching John sleep. And then once he was awake…well, his ass would remember that for a long time.

Rodney smiled to himself as he walked around back stage at the Mandalay Bay Convention Center. His ass twinged with every step and he couldn't wait until he returned the favor tonight. He was already making plans on how he wanted to take John.

Steve, Danny, and John were out doing their security thing, making sure everything was clear. After his presentation this afternoon—the keynote—he was invited to the cocktail reception and dinner. He'd agreed to do some of it, but if it was as boring as he suspected, he wouldn't be there long.

The contact who had introduced himself earlier as the organizer of the event approached. "Doctor McKay! This way please. I'll bring you around to the waiting area by the stage."

"Is there a large crowd?"

"Yes, we have had an excellent turn out. I can't thank you enough for agreeing to do this last minute."

"Well, you're the ones who paid for it."

"Yes, and it was worth it to have a man of your stature as our keynote." He gestured toward an area that had been set aside, with a table that held a bottle of water and what looked like some M&Ms. "We weren't sure what you liked, so we put those out. If you need anything else, just let me know. The president of the association will be going out first in a few minutes to greet everyone, then he'll introduce you."

Rodney nodded. "That's fine," he said grabbing the water bottle. As soon as the guy left he checked the bottle's seal and finding it still secure, cracked it open and took a sip.

The guy Steve had told him would be his "shadow" sifted the M&Ms for a moment, then nodded at him. "If you want any, they look safe."

"I'm good. I had plenty of coffee before coming down here."

The guard nodded. "I'll be right here the whole time, Doctor McKay. After the speech, return to this point, and I'll escort you to the reception where Misters McGarrett and Sheppard will be waiting for you."

"Yes, that's what Steve said. This is only forty-five minutes, so it shouldn't be too bad for you."

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. The people allowed into this area have been limited, so just go out there and do your thing, Doc."

"And who'll get my laptop back?"

"Another of the guards is handling that. It will be returned to Mister McGarrett before the end of the reception."

"Oh. That's not your job?"

"No sir. My job is to ensure you aren't bothered now, during your speech, or in the time walking to the reception."

"That's it."

"Mister McGarrett didn't want there to be any loss of focus."

"Yes, well, that is important." Rodney tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket before taking another sip of water.

The president of the association—Rodney had no idea what his name was—came over and introduced himself before bounding out on stage to a cheering crowd. This guy apparently thought he was some kind of rock star, and his audience agreed with him.

He rolled his eyes. By the time he was done, he was going to blow their minds.

"And now, I give you what I know will be the highlight speaker of this conference—Doctor Rodney McKay!"

Rodney walked out, squinting into the bright stage lights. "Good afternoon. What you're going to learn today—what I'm going to talk about—will completely change the way you view the universe and energy. Today I'm going to tell you that it's not only possible, but it's inevitable that we will be able to harness clean power. And in order to do that, I'm going to prove to you that parallel universes actually exist."

A hushed murmur ran through the crowd, and with that, he was off, getting all the right responses in all the right places. When he was done, the crowd literally gave him a standing ovation that threatened to bring the ceiling down. He was smug that his applause was better than rock-star presidents.

He walked back off-stage, a broad grin on his face. God, that was a rush.

His security guard was standing there with a small smile on his face. "Good job, Doc!"

"Of course. Did you expect anything else?"

"No, sir. If you'll come with me, we can head over to the reception." He could still hear people cheering.

"Let me just grab another bottle of water. Work like that is quite parching," he said as he stepped into the green room. He grabbed the closest bottle and twisted off the top, taking a sip even before he was out of the room.

He heard a slight pop. He turned around to see what his guard was doing, but froze. The man from Hawaii, the one who had been in charge, was stepping over the guard and into the room. "Ahh, Doctor McKay. Quite a rousing speech, I must say."

"What…" He backed away. "What do you want?"

"We never got to finish our little chat last time. I was so very disappointed." He gestured, and Jefferies stepped into the room, the weird penis gun in his hands again. "Are you going to require that we do this the hard way again, Doctor McKay?"

"I am not going anywhere with you. We had this conversation already and I'm not and never will be interested." He glanced past him toward the guard who wasn't moving. "Did you kill him?"

"He is no concern of yours. And I'm afraid I don't have time to banter with you again right now." He gestured again, and the last thing Rodney thought as the light hit him was, not again.

 

***

 

Twenty four hours.  John stared blindly out the window, not seeing anything. Rodney had disappeared without a trace this time. No hints, no clues, nothing. 

They had found the guard in the same unconsciousness they had seen in Hawaii, but even after he woke up, he hadn’t been able to tell them anything. There had been no other clues, no other leads. 

Nothing. 

John knew Carson was almost to a point where he was going to force him to eat and sleep, but John couldn’t stand the thought of either right now. 

There was a knock on the door, the sound echoing through the huge multi-room suite John was in all alone. He never thought about how much space Rodney took up—with his personality—just by being present.

He walked blankly to the door, opening it without bothering to ask who it was. Rodney was gone—the security risk was low right now. They didn't want him, they wanted Rodney. And they had him.

Carson was standing at the door, looking as pale and worried as he had a few hours before. "John, lad, you have to believe we're going to find him."

John shrugged. He did believe if there was a way, Steve and the team he was rallying would find him. But something about all this, the weird technology, the cryptic hints from Lorne... John believed this was part of something bigger and that was what had him more worried than anything else.

Carson took a few steps inside the suite, shifting John back with a gentle hand. "I know you don't want to hear this, but you have to eat and sleep and get on with things. You have to be positive. If you give up now there's no telling what will happen."

God, the thought of eating left ashes in John's mouth. And he knew he couldn't sleep in the bed here. Where he had fucked Rodney for the first time. Where they had made plans for later that would never happen now. With a sigh, though, he knew Carson was right—he couldn't be a distraction to finding Rodney. He gave a small nod, unable to actually voice the words though. He was afraid if he started talking, it would turn to sobbing, and he wouldn't be able to stop.

"I asked room service to bring up some turkey sandwiches and coffee. They should be behind me in a few minutes." Carson herded him toward the couches.

John sat heavily. They weren't too uncomfortable, so he was pretty sure he could doze here after he ate. He cleared his throat and sighed. "Sorry."

"There's nothing for ye to be sorry about. Right now we just need to figure out where he went and who has him. Steve finally got all of the security camera footage an hour ago. It took a while to convince the casino to release it."

That was a relief. At least it would give him somewhere to start. "Good. Does he have any leads yet?"

"I donna know. I didn't stay down there with him. I figured you'd want to know and you werena answering your phone."

"It's dead." John gestured over toward the table where it was plugged in. "I have it charging now."

"Ahh. Aye, that makes sense. I thought you might be sleeping, so I didn't wanna ring the suite phone."

John shook his head. "I don't know how much sleep I'll get, but after I eat, I'll try to lay down here. I can't... I can't go in the bedroom right now. I just... I can't."

Carson laid a hand on his shoulder. "I can prescribe you something if you want."

John shook his head. "Not yet. I don't want to be out of it if something does happen."

"I understand, but ye also need to rest. You'll be of no use to anyone if you're not and you're more liable to make mistakes."

"If I can't get any sleep on my own out here, I'll let you knock me out later."

"Aye, okay, but I'm gonna be keeping an eye on you." He gave John a soft smile. "You've been a good thing for my lad and I'll not have you ruining it."

John smiled. "No, I won't ruin it. He... means a lot to me, Carson. I don't want to lose him, especially not like this."

"Aye. No one does. We'll get this figured out," Carson said just as there was another knock on the door. "Aye. That should be lunch. Stay here. I'll get it."

John nodded. When Carson put the food in front of him, he forced himself to eat half the sandwich and a few sips of the coffee, but that was all he could get down. He sighed again. "I guess let me try to nap. Maybe if I can get a little sleep, I can eat the rest when I wake up."

"Aye, I guess," Carson said with a frown. "I wish you'd eat a little more."

"If I try, there's a good chance it will all come back up." John shook his head. "I don't want to push it. I'm trying, but..."

"Aye." Carson patted his shoulder. He rose as soon as there was another knock on the door. "That must be Steve. He said he'd give me an update."

When Carson opened the door, however, it wasn't just Steve. There was a small delegation outside and John recognized Lorne immediately.

John stood up, his fatigue temporarily fading. "Let them in, Carson," he said before the doctor could say anything.

"Thanks Sheppard," Lorne said with a wry grin as he stepped inside. "I wasn't sure I'd get the best reception after the last time." He glanced around. "Nice place you've got here.

"You know more about what's going on than we do, and finding McKay is more important to me than being pissed at you for holding out." John gestured them to the living room area. "Have a seat and start talking."

They settled down in the spacious living room and started with introductions. "John and Steve, I've brought some people with me I think will be able to help: Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter, Doctor Daniel Jackson, and Teal'c."

Carson immediately tensed beside him.

John narrowed his eyes. The woman he recognized, both in name and from the first day he had met Rodney. "How is bringing along his ex-wife who holds a grudge helpful, Lorne?"

Lorne sighed. "She's a brilliant scientist and part of O'Neill's team."

"And she stole his work, passed it off as her own, and made his life a living hell since." John gave the newcomers a tight smile. "No offense to the rest of you, but there's a history here I can't exactly ignore. I can't trust her to actually help him in any way."

"John—" Carter started, but immediately broke off at the sight of John's face.

"Sheppard, please. I only allow people I like to use my first name. You screwed over my boyfriend and I'm not entirely convinced you aren't behind his disappearance now."

"We're not," Jackson said, pushing his glasses up his nose as he leaned forward. "I know this is a difficult situation, but we are here to help. There's much more at stake here than you realize."

John glanced at him. He hadn't met any of the rest of them before. "I have no reason to distrust any of the rest of you. She's the only one I know would happily fuck him over again if given a chance. I want him found, and if the rest of you can help me do that, I'll cooperate as much as I can."

"We're here to help," Jackson said, only to be interrupted by O'Neill.

"Look, Sheppard. We don't care who you're fucking, but the things McKay has discovered are things that a lot of scientists have spent years trying to do. That information in the wrong hands can tip the balance of power on this planet and in the galaxy."

John opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again as the phrasing caught up to him. He stared at them. "Planet and galaxy?"

Carter looked pinched and angry, but it was Jackson who answered. "The…discoveries have the governments of several planets very interested in Doctor McKay. We don't believe they'll hurt him, but they want access to unlimited power."

"Planets." John pinched the bridge of his nose. "If I didn't trust Lorne, you realize I would think you're all fucking crazy right now, right?"

"John, it's the truth and we're reading the three of you in because it's important for you to have the broader picture. Yes. We have been in touch with other planets and governments for the past seven years. O'Neill's team—also known as SG1—is a first contact team and has key information about who could be behind this."

"Well fuck." John rubbed his forehead. This day just kept getting better. "I have a feeling I'm going to have some serious questions when this is all over and I've actually had time to process it. But given what little I understand of what Rodney's been working on, it's even more important that we get him back. Tell me you have access to some serious space shit to track down who has him."

Lorne sighed. "Unfortunately, I didn't have the opportunity to get close enough to McKay in Hawaii to put a tracker on him. That was…part of my mission there."

John narrowed his eyes at the other man. "So we're in this situation because you failed a mission? Seriously? I thought you were better than that, Lorne."

"We've been watching McKay for several years now," Lorne said, when no one else spoke up. "His discoveries and ideas are light-years ahead of what some of our scientists have come up with—and they have access to advanced technology. At first, we were looking into him because we thought he had somehow gained access to this information through illegal means. That, however, was not the case."

John shook his head. "Is he that much smarter than everyone else, or do you have that stupid of people working for you?"

"He's smart, I'll give you that," Carter said. "Smarter than everyone else—I don't think so."

Jackson turned to her. "And yes he's come up with things you didn't even think to connect."

John smirked at her. "So he's smarter than you. Which would be why you tried to fuck him over professionally, hmm?" He glanced at the rest of them. "You do realize that the only reason he keeps rebuffing your attempts to recruit him is her, right?"

"It's not just about Carter, but she's a big part, yes. We haven't been able to figure out what his other issues are, but it's not because we haven't tried to find out," O'Neill said.

"The other part is that you're asking him to sign away all rights to all his work. He makes a living from his ideas, and you want him to give all rights to those ideas to you. How would you react to someone telling you that you couldn't draw your gun to protect yourself unless you were given explicit permission from here on out?"

"Aye, and then there's the incident in the Middle East. I believe he was told that it was just an…experiment that went wrong," Carson said quietly. "How many people were killed again? Two villages of civilians and twenty soldiers, I think."

John nearly got whiplash from looking at Carson. That part, he hadn't know. Fuck. "Are you telling me that he did work for them and they used his work to kill innocent people Hell, no wonder he doesn't' trust them."

"It wasn't like that," Carter protested, but Carson just shook his head.

"That was the end result no matter how you get there. The equations and devices he built were appropriated for weapons research and deployed."

John sighed, and leaned back, Seriously. This day just kept getting more and more fucked up by the minute. "Okay, right now we don't really have time to re-hash all the reasons he doesn't trust your organization. I just want him back safe, and we can figure out the rest then. You said you can't track him, but you wouldn't be here if you didn't think you could do something, and you especially wouldn't be telling us all of this. So what now?"

"Now, we find him," O'Neill said.

John nodded. "I assumed that, but how, and what can we do to help?"

"I need you to go over everything again from the incident in Hawaii," Lorne said. "We think we know who is behind this, but we want to be certain we're expending our efforts in the right place."

John nodded and took a deep breath. He actually went back to the original first attempt, the shooting. Between him and Steve, who jumped in once John got to his part, it took them the better part of an hour to recap everything they knew, including the little new information Steve had gleaned in the last twenty-four hours.

Carter turned to O'Neill her expression tense and serious. "It sounds like him, sir."

John looked at O'Neill, sharpening his gaze. "So you do know who it is."

"We think we know who it is," O'Neill said. "It sounds distinctly like one of our least favorite people. He goes by the name Ba'al."

John shook his head. "I've never heard it."

"You wouldn't have, unless you were familiar with the god of Ancient Babylon," Jackson said.

John blinked. "What does an ancient god myth have to do with anything?"

Jackson opened his mouth, but O'Neill cut him off. "We don't have time for Danny's history lesson. Let's just say that the gods are real and have been a pain in our collective asses for the last seven years. This one more so than any other."

"Are you telling me that all those god myths are real, and they're still kicking around causing problems? You realize how crazy that sounds right? I was willing to go with you on space exploration, but ancient gods might be pushing it," John scoffed.

"They're really aliens posing as gods," Jackson said.

Right. Aliens. Right. John was getting a headache. "So where does this Ba'al make his base of operations?"

"He has a few places—and one of them is right here," Carter said.

"He likes to hide in plain sight," O'Neill added.

"Do you really think he would keep Rodney somewhere close by? He had to know we would be looking for him."

"He doesn't have a lot of options for travel these days, so he's just as limited to Earth-based vehicles as we are," O'Neill said.

John stared at him. "Are you telling me there was a possibility not just that he was taken out of the state, but off the fucking planet?"

"We don't believe that to be the case," Lorne said, holding out his hand in a "calm down" gesture. "He doesn’t have access to that kind of technology right now."

"Right now." The hysterics John had been fighting all day, combined with sheer exhaustion, were starting to take a toll. He had to close his eyes and count to twenty to get himself under control.

Lorne continued a few beats later. "We need to get you up to speed as to what you can expect when we breech the facility."

"Ray guns? Aliens popping out of the ceiling?"

"Loyal servants to their god, Ba'al," Teal'c added, his voice deep and menacing. "They are most protective of their god."

"Right." John noticed for the first time the tattoo on the guy's forehead. He stared for a moment, then had to fight off another round of hysteria. "You're not from here, are you?"

"I am not."

"Right." John knew his hands were starting to shake a bit, but he did his best to ignore it. Rodney, focus on getting Rodney back. Have an existential crisis later.

Carson put an equally shaky hand on his arm. "Why don't we take a few minutes to process this and then we can discuss how we're going to get my Rodney back. Aye?"

John nodded. He took a deep breath and looked at the team in front of him. "When are you planning to assault the compound you think Rodney is being held?"

"Tonight."

"Carson, do you have something that can help me sleep for a few hours, but not leave me groggy? If I'm going on a raid, I need to get some rest. I don't want to shoot the wrong person because I'm falling asleep on my feet."

"Aye," he said standing, eyeing the rest of their visitors. "I suggest you come back in six hours and then we can continue this conversation."

Everyone else stood up. "We'll get some sleep, and you can brief us on what to expect and the plan for going in and extracting Rodney then. Will that work?"

There were nods all around and then Steve was escorting them out. He sent a look over his shoulder toward John as he left the suite.

John nodded, waiting for his friend to return while Carson fretted around, presumably finding what he needed to make sure they could get some sleep before the raid.

"I'm gonna give you a verra light sedative, but it should wear off in plenty of time. It's mainly to help you to fall asleep. Aye?"

"Yes, just let me meet with Steve, and then you can give it to me. Make sure he gets it too, since I'll need him at his best tonight."

"He'll be back. You need to get some sleep now." Carson more or less pushed him into the bedroom. "Strip down so you're comfortable and get into that bed."

John froze at the bed. "Carson..."

"In. Don'na make me force you."

He sighed. He needed to make sure he was at his best tonight, so he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jeans and tee-shirt. "Just let me talk to Steve before you give it to me. We won't take long."

"He'll be back when I let him come back. Bed. Now."

John slipped between the covers, ruthlessly suppressing his last memories of being in the bed.

"Good," Carson said with a nod, already approaching with a needle. "This will act quickly and help you fall asleep. I'll be with you the whole time."

"I need--"

"You need sleep," Carson said, pressing the needle into his arm with barely a prick. "There you go. Now. Close your eyes and sleep."

John wanted to protest, but whatever Carson had given him was good stuff. Combined with the fact that his body was already craving sleep, he couldn't even glare properly since it was interrupted by a yawn.

"Sleep. Everything'll look better in a few hours."

John thought he was just blinking, but when he opened his eyes again, the light had changed considerably. "Wha?"

"There's coffee and food in the living room," Carson said quietly. "Wake up slowly and I'll be outside when you're ready."

"How long was I out?" John pushed off the covers and wrinkled his nose. If he had time, he should take a quick shower so he didn't alert the enemy he was coming by smell alone.

"Little over five hours."

"Good. Thank you. I'll shower and be right out. Are Lorne and his friends back yet? Did Steve sleep?"

"Aye. His Danny made sure of it."

John smiled and headed for the shower. Fifteen minutes later he walked into the living room in clean clothes and feeling less…fragile.

 

There was a small army in the living room.

He raised an eyebrow, but found a place to sit down near where Carson had set out some sandwiches. He grabbed one and started to eat while he waited for O'Neill, who was obviously in charge, to start.

"The facility Ba'al currently owns—and we believe is operating out of—is located outside the main part of the city, in a warehouse district. We can easily take the building with minimal casualties."

John winced. He hated that they had to plan for any casualties at all. He raised a hand to get O'Neill's attention. "Do we need to expect any alien weapons, and if so, can you give us a quick run-down of what to look for and how to counter them?"

O'Neill made a face, but spent the next thirty minutes outlining all of the weapons and troops they expected to encounter. The facility itself was going to be the problem. It was big, with multiple levels and lots of places to hide. Facing an ambush was their greatest fear in this situation.

John examined the odd weapon he had been given—a Zat, they called it. From what Rodney had described, this was how they had knocked him and the rest of the people they had found in Hawaii—not to mention the guard yesterday—unconscious.

"One shot stuns," Lorne told him, pointing John's gun away from himself and at the ground. "Two kills. Three makes the object disappear."

"That's wild, you know that, right?" John shook his head. "Okay, so do we have an entry plan, and any idea of where in the facility they could be keeping Rodney?"

"Ah…no," Carter said. "So we'll have to do a level by level search."

John shot her an annoyed look, then addressed his comments back to O'Neill. "Do we have anything in place to prevent him from taking off with Rodney? He's going to know as soon as we start the raid, I'd imagine."

O'Neill sighed. "This is the best plan we have at the moment and we're banking on the fact that we still think Ba'al's here in Vegas."

"What's to stop him from killing Rodney as soon as we step foot in that warehouse?"

"He needs the information Rodney has," Carter said, taking the conversation back from O'Neill again. "That's the whole point to the kidnapping."

John shot her another glare. What part of his dislike and distrust about her motives was she not getting? "That doesn't mean he won't kill him to prevent us from getting him back."

"Ba'al can’t get the information if he's dead," Carter snapped.

"But if it comes down to him or us having it, which do you think he'd choose?" John snapped right back at her.

"Ba'al would find a way to keep him, even if it means putting a symbiote in his head."

John shook his head. "That's... not an option. We have to prevent that."

"Of course we do," Carter said, rolling her eyes. "The last thing we need is for Ba'al to have complete access to everything Rodney knows."

"And, you know, that pesky thing you mentioned of completely taking over his body turning him into a prisoner. That wouldn't be the more important thing to prevent, hmm?"

Carter opened her mouth to respond, but O'Neill cut in. "Enough. We're going to find him and if he has a snake in him we'll worry about it later. We are going to find him. End of story."

John nodded. One thing at a time. "Which team will I be on, Sir, and under whose command?"

"You'll be with Lorne's team."

Good. He could handle that. "The only other question I have then is when do we move out, sir?"

"Within the hour."

The next while was spent getting outfitted, and going over which teams would go through which entry points. Lorne already had a small team, and John was glad he was able to mesh with them pretty seamlessly.

Steve and Danny were on other teams as well. The military keeping them separated—most likely to keep an eye on them. John just hoped it went without any problems.

They headed over to the site in black SUVs, everyone in black field gear. It was like déjà vu to be back in this getup. John fell easily back into Special Ops mode, moving silently and with the least amount of motion required.

The neighborhood was dead. A mass of burnt-out and vacant warehouses at the back-end of nowhere.

With a deep breath, John prepared to move out.

The teams went in with surgical precision, clearing rooms and floors quickly and efficiently. John could see that people had been there recently—the newspaper in one of the second floor rooms was a dead giveaway—but there was no one and nothing here now.

Dried blood on the floor in a third floor room clenched his insides, but the techs following behind would get all the evidence they needed. They'd be able to tell them if Rodney had been here, if that blood was his.

There wasn't a soul in the facility though. They had left long before the teams had arrived, which meant Rodney could be anywhere. John tried not to let himself think too hard about that.

They needed a new plan, a better plan. And they needed one fast.

 

***

 

Rodney woke slowly, consciousness reluctant to come back to the forefront—and Rodney couldn't really argue with that.

He hurt.

The first time he'd woken, he'd been tied to a chair in a big empty room. The guy who had zapped him was standing off to the side. Another large, burly man circled Rodney, cracking his knuckles.

Now, Rodney was not the brave type. Not at all. He caved at just the thought of stubbing his toe or getting a hangnail. He was stubborn about his research and personal things, but in a mugging he'd be the first to empty out his wallet and hand everything over just to get out of it unscathed.

But for some reason unbeknownst to him, he decided not to go along with what the…scarily well-dressed man wanted. He made Rodney's skin crawl and he didn't trust him. And he didn't—couldn't—just turn over his research to him.

After refusing to cooperate, the big burly dude had worked him over to convince him to answer questions. Rodney didn't think he had any broken bones, but bruises were definitely on his list. And then they other guy—the creepy smiling well-dressed man—took a knife to his arm.

Rodney swore the man loved hearing him scream.

The next while was a bit fuzzy as the shock of the whole situation finally seeped into his brain. They were serious. Really serious. Deadly serious.

There was a commotion and Rodney heard something about teams on the way before he was stunned with the weird weapon again, only to wake up at some point later in a pile on the floor with every single cell in his body aching.

He cracked open an eye only to find the same man staring down at him, a cruel smile on his face.

"Ahh, Doctor McKay. Good of you to join us again. Now, where did we leave off when we were so rudely interrupted before?"

"Go to hell," he whispered, curling into himself a little. He coughed, his throat rough and dry from his earlier screaming.

"I believe you already mentioned that. However, your version of Hell is, quite quaintly, a fiction designed by some of my old colleagues to keep your kind in line. So actually going there would, I dare say, be rather difficult."

"Colleagues?"

"Your people have proven to be extremely resilient and resourceful, so most of them have been... eliminated. I can't complain, since it has left me with a great deal of power."

Rodney coughed again, pressing his forehead to the floor for a moment. "Who the hell are you?"

"Ah, I haven't yet introduced myself, have I? My name is Ba'al, your new God."

Rodney started laughing, but ended up coughing harder. "God? That's a hard thing for an atheist."

"I have heard that term before, but I assure you, the Gods are very real. We once ruled this planet, and the entire galaxy. Alas, that era has come to an end, and a new one is dawning. With your methods of gaining energy from subspace, I'll be able to power a new army, and the galaxy will all bow before me."

"So is this what happens when delusions of grandeur go to your head? And galaxy? Right. You have to be delusional."

Ba'al chuckled. "Perhaps a demonstration of my power would be in order?" He held up his hand. A small device was strapped around it, with what looked like a gemstone in the center. Before Rodney could scoff again, it started to glow, and then intense pain shot through his brain.

It hurt. There was no way around it. Rodney knew he screamed, knew his body arched on the floor, shuddering with the pain caused by the device in Ba'al's hand.

As sudden as it has started, it stopped. "I can slice your mind to ribbons, destroy you with pain if I so desire. But I can also be a very…benevolent God. Give me what I ask, and you shall be rewarded handsomely. Isn't that far preferable to where you are now, Doctor McKay?"

"You…you need me," Rodney whispered, trying to shift away from Ba'al without looking like he was moving away.

Ba'al gestured toward him and the pain returned for a few brief moments. "I can take what I want from you if I choose. I would rather you come to me willingly, however."

"No…I won't help you."

"Oh, you will give me what I want. The only question is how badly I have to damage you in the process to get it."

Rodney managed to push himself up, leaning back against a wall so he could look up at Ba'al a little easier. He cradled his left arm close to his chest. "You need me," he repeated. "If you could do it yourself you would have, but you're not smart enough. And if you thought you could get the information out of me without destroying it you would have done it already. No, you need me just the way I am."

"Ah, but you fail to take into account that I simply enjoy torturing people to get what I want. It's my hobby, you might say. Forcing it out of you is far more pleasurable for me than simply hiring someone to obtain the same thing."

"I’m still not going to help you."

"Yes, you will. The only real question is how much pain it will take to get you to that point. Such interesting creatures, humans. So frail, and yet, you can be so strong." The pain lanced through Rodney's body again.

When Ba'al broke off, it left Rodney panting in pain, his body still shuddering with it. He was tilting to the side, but managed to catch himself before he ended back down on the floor.

"So tell me, Doctor McKay, what do you enjoy other than science? I'll enjoy stripping it away from you until all that's left is a pale shell of a man who will obey my every command."

"Is that…that what you did to Jefferies?"

"The man who is my minion now? No, he does not exist. I have made him one of my children."

"Is that what you plan to do to me?"

"If necessary. I have more children I can use, but it does... hamper your effectiveness. We can access the minds of the mortals whose bodies we use, but it is still a separate mind. If you don't cooperate, however, it is an option I have not ruled out."

Rodney closed his eyes for a moment, trying to swallow against the dryness of this throat. "Mortals whose bodies you use? You're still not making any sense."

"I don't expect you to follow the logic, or the anatomy, of Gods, Doctor McKay."

"You're not a god," Rodney said, opening his eyes. "You're a deluded human with cool toys."

Ba'al snorted. "You will come to believe. In time." He held out his hand again, once more shooting pain through Rodney's body.

This was repeated over and over again until Ba'al finally grew bored with it—and Rodney vaguely wondered if his brains were starting to leak out his ears. If he thought he had been in pain before, it was nothing compared to now.

"Feed and water him, then see that he rests. I will want to begin again tomorrow, and we can't have him dying until I get what I require from him."

Two huge men in what amounted to a loin-cloth dragged him from the room and down the hall. They tossed him into a small closet. The door clanged shut and Rodney found himself surrounded by concrete and steel and very alone.

A small pile of blankets in the corner was his only creature comfort, and he crawled to them, carefully balancing on his knees and one good arm.

The door clanged open again and a bowl of something was dropped onto the floor next to him, along with a canteen of liquid.

He forced himself to eat, knowing he needed what little strength he could get from it. The water he saved, sipping on it slowly, wanting it to last.

The next day—or was it only hours later—Rodney was rousted from his troubled sleep and dragged back to the torture chamber. Ba'al loved his knives, loved to watch blood as it welled up on Rodney's pale skin.

He switched on and off between the knife and the weird pain device on his hand, not asking any questions. He simply played with him, making him scream, taunting him to beg.

Rodney was tossed back into his cell, bleeding and sobbing, his body still shuddering in pain.

He didn't know how much longer he could do this, how much more he could take. But what really scared him more was the sheer delight on Ba'al's face every time he screamed.

The twisted fuck actually did enjoy this, got a kick out of torturing him, hurting him. It made it that much worse, somehow, knowing that he was bringing pleasure to that... man... in any way.

Rodney was a smart man. He knew he had to get out of here, get himself free, but nothing—absolutely nothing—came to mind.

The only thing getting him through was the vague memories of when they had moved him, that "teams" were coming. That meant someone was looking for him, right? John would come, Rodney knew he would. He just had to hold on until then.

He just hoped he could.

 

***

 

John was about at his limit of being able to hold his shit together. He was trying, he really was, but Rodney had been gone for five days now. 

Five. Days. 

John only slept or ate when Carson forced the issue, although he didn’t put up a fight. He knew he needed to keep his health up, but it was getting harder and harder to get out of bed knowing Rodney wouldn’t be there to snark at him. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, John had to work to get himself under control. Rodney needed him, so he couldn’t completely lose his fucking mind yet. 

With a sigh, he got dressed and headed back out into what had become the command center as O’Neill’s men and women did their thing to try and find where Ba’al was holed up. “Any news?” 

O'Neill glanced up, looking about as haggard as John felt. "Not much, but we're closing in. I just hope he can hang on. I know…" O'Neill's voice broke a little and he cleared his throat. "I know what that sick bastard can do."

John looked closer at O'Neill. "You were his prisoner before?"

O'Neill's lips tightened into a thin line and he nodded. Two years ago. Off-world. He…he killed me…several times. Enjoyed it, too. I almost lost it."

"Killed you?"

"He had a…sarcophagus that could bring me back to life. I…lost track of how many times he did it. He enjoyed it. I just…he has to be more careful here. He doesn't have one of them with him anymore."

John felt the blood drain out of his face. Christ. And this was the man who had Rodney...

"I'm…we're working as fast as we can, Sheppard. I know what's at stake here more than you can imagine."

The room started to spin a little, so John sat down hard on the couch that was, fortunately, right there. "There has to be something else I can do."

John felt more than saw O'Neill sit down next to him. "We're closing in. I know we are. It's just a matter of time. We've tracked Jefferies. He's been sloppy and started using his credit cards."

"I thought you said you suspected he was a goa'uld, or whatever they're called."

O'Neill nodded. "We think so. It's the only explanation of how Ba'al has such complete control over him."

"Then why would he suddenly get sloppy?"

O'Neill sighed. "The host…the person who the…snake takes over, does still exist. And depending on the host they can still exert some control over the snake in their heads. It's a battle of wills. In many cases since the snake is thousands of years old, they have more experience in dominating their host. Others just get arrogant and sloppy."

"So Jefferies could still be in there, trying to find a way to let us know where they are."

"We're hoping so."

"How close are we to having an idea of where they are? And do we know how they heard we were coming and got out last time?'

"We don't know. We've made the teams smaller this time and we're keeping it all close to the vest. You'll know as soon as we do." O'Neill stood. "We'll find him."

John nodded. "I hope so, sir. I don't think I can sit around waiting for too much longer."

"Hang in there. It won't be long."

"Easy for you to say."

"You'll get your chance to do some damage, Sheppard. Don't worry."

John sighed and wandered over to the kitchen area, forcing himself to eat a little before Carson found him and started lecturing him about it again.

That was the last thing he needed right now. He needed to do something. Just the thought of what this bastard could be doing to Rodney right now… He needed to do something.

"Sheppard," O'Neill called out, breaking into his musings. "We're on the move."

John's head nearly cracked as he whipped it around. "You found him?"

"Now, Sheppard," O'Neill said, holding out his bullet-proof vest.

He didn't have to be asked twice. He was geared up and ready to go in two minutes.

The trip this time was fast, the SUVs easily weaving through traffic and onto the highway. Conversation was minimal, each SUV broken up into their respective teams. Lorne filled him in quietly as another soldier drove.

"One of our men was able to track Jefferies back to a house on the outskirts of town. It's a long-term rental and it seems like Ba'al hasn't left the premises since they arrived. It's assumed he's still there along with McKay. There was a delivery of high-end computer equipment this afternoon."

What's the entry plan?"

"Everyone will go in at once from all entry points. We'd like to keep them alive so we can question them, but if you're threatened…"

John nodded. "Got it."

"O'Neill's team is taking the main floor. Carter is headed upstairs. We'll take the basement." Lorne dug out 8.5x11-inch versions of house blueprints. "We're going to enter here and go directly downstairs."

John studied the prints for several minutes, memorizing them. "Where do they think Rodney is being held?"

"We're unsure."

He would have preferred to know, but he would take what he could get. "When do we get into position?"

Lorne checked his watch and glanced up out of the window. "Less than five minutes. We're entering the development."

For the next several minutes, John made sure all his gear was ready to go, then double-checked the plans one more time. As they pulled up, he rolled out of the SUV and into position with the rest of Lorne's team.

"Remember, defend yourself, but try not to kill everyone."

John gave a tight nod, and with a hand signal, they moved out. Lorne took point, with one of his men on their six. John and a Marine of all things brought up the middle, clearing the rooms and providing backup.

Entry was clean—if loud—and they went in, heading directly to the basement. The house was huge, but with the three teams it didn't take long before they started meeting resistance.

At least this was a better sign than the completely empty building. But John stayed focus, bringing down each enemy target as they showed up. He was using the stun weapon he had been issued, and for the moment, was being careful to only hit people once.

He was getting a continual update from the other teams as well, as they went through the house. Heard when the team on the second floor announced that they had lost Ba'al and a car was already heading away from the property.

John had to work to keep his temper in check and continue the methodical search. There was still a chance Rodney was here, that Ba'al hadn't been able to grab him in his escape.

"Damn," John heard Lorne mutter as he tried a nearby door. "Locked."

"Can we kick it in?"

"Metal," Lorne said, gesturing for the other two to continue down the hall.

John muttered his own curse. "We have to get it open. Rodney could be in there."

"I know." He sighed and stepped back. "Move out of the way."

John took a step back, watching Lorne warily.

Lorne adjusted his stance and scowled. His zat went off three times in a row and the door simply…disappeared.

John swallowed hard. Holy shit they hadn't been kidding about the whole vaporization thing.

Lorne was already moving, his hand tapping his radio to turn it on even as he was bending over a pile of rags or something on the floor. "We need a medic now."

John was moving as soon as Lorne was talking, needing to see into the room.

"Yeah," he said as he knelt. "It's not good."

John's breath caught as he entered the room and saw Rodney on the floor. All training and awareness of anything else evaporated, and he was on his knees next to the other man. "Rodney, Christ, Rodney..."

"Careful, John. I don't want to move him until the medic gets here."

Swallowing hard, John reached out needing to touch him. "Rodney, I'm so sorry I didn't find you sooner, but I'm here now, so please, please be okay."

Rodney was breathing, but each inhale and exhale sounded like he was in pain, even unconscious. There was dried blood everywhere and none of his clothing was in one piece. There was a burn mark on his forehead, a sharp contrast to the paleness of his face.

John's entire world narrowed down to his lover. He moved to the side when the medics arrived, and had never felt so helpless before in his entire life.

The medics were quick and efficient, adding a neck brace before they rolled Rodney onto the backboard. They checked his levels as they strapped him into the gurney, adding various lines and IVs even as another medic continued his evaluation.

They were on the move moments later, Lorne and John following behind. "We can meet the chopper in the field in two minutes once we get him topside."

John nodded, his eyes never leaving Rodney's face.

There was a gurney waiting for Rodney at the top of the basement stairs. They strapped him in and moved out at a fast clip, making Lorne and John jog to keep up with them. An ambulance was waiting just past where their SUVs had parked.

Lorne moved to talk with the driver, giving him instructions as to where they needed to meet the chopper as the medics slid Rodney's gurney in the back. They started to close the doors before John had the chance to climb in.

"I'm going with him."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't authorize that."

"I don't care." John glared at the medic. "He's my partner and I'm going with him."

"We're both riding with him," Lorne said, stepping up behind John. "General's orders. We're meeting the chopper."

John didn't wait for any further acknowledgement, but climbed in next to Rodney. He took the other man's hand and squeezed it. "Just hold on, buddy. We're getting you out of here now."

The ambulance took off as soon as Lorne closed the door behind him, sitting down next to John. "Okay. Things are going to move fast. I need you to trust me and not argue with me. Okay?"

John glanced over and after a brief hesitation, nodded.

"You're going to see things you don't understand and asked to do things you're not going to want to. Just trust me. We're going to make sure Rodney is okay."

John looked down at Rodney. Right now, getting him helped was the most important thing. "Just promise me you'll keep me posted, and allow me to stay as close to him as possible."

"I will, I promise."

"Thank you." John couldn't imagine what had happened to Rodney, and he just wanted to somehow fix it.

The next thirty minutes was simply a whirlwind. John didn't even know if he could explain what really happened or how he ended up walking through what seemed to be a very secret, classified government building. Vaguely he realized that he was probably at Area 51 and he should be a little freaked out about it, but he was too busy worrying.

True to his word, even though he was separated from Rodney at one point, he didn't protest as much as he wanted to. He just tried to focus on keeping his shit together so when he was allowed to see the other man again, he would be at his relative best.

Lorne forced John to look at him as he watched the doctors wheel Rodney away. "John, he's in the best hands right now. They'll take care of him. I need you to focus."

"Right." John tore his eyes away from the door. He really hoped Lorne had something productive for him to do, because sitting around waiting was going to drive him crazy.

"I have some paperwork I need you to read and sign. Do you understand?"

"You realize I really won't be able to focus on anything. I can sign it, but I can't promise I'll remember what it is I'm signing later."

"It's important, John. You don't really realize where you are or what you're in the middle of. I'm just trying to protect you and Rodney the best I can. Okay?"

"I know." John ran a hand through his hair. At some point someone had taken his weapon and gear, leaving him in his tee-shirt and jeans. "I just... I'm worried about him."

"I know. He's in the best place he can be right now. The doctors here are very good and they understand just how important it is to make sure he's okay." Lorne took a breath. "He's a…national treasure. The things he came up with, John…Trust me. No one in this entire facility wants him working for the other side. Okay?"

John nodded again, hoping these people really could fix whatever that bastard Ba'al had done to Rodney.

"Come with me. I'm going to get you something to eat and drink and we're going to go over the paperwork and you're going to ask me questions. Okay?"

"Right. Okay." John followed him through the halls, not really focusing on anything going on around him. All his energy was in with Rodney right now.

Lorne set him down at a table and dropped a pile of paperwork in front of him. "Start reading and sign each page as you go."

Taking a deep breath, John dragged his mind to the present. "This is a lot of paperwork."

"It is, but if it wasn't important I wouldn't give it to you."

"I know, it's just a lot of paperwork." He sighed and took the first page off the top.

It was a pretty detailed confidentiality agreement—which he was a little surprised to see.

Taking a deep breath, he started diving into the stack. He read and signed each page, his serious shock at what he was reading and agreeing not to disclose growing by the page.

O'Neill had mentioned aliens, but it was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. They were at war. With aliens.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

When he signed the last page of the confidentiality agreement, there was a booklet underneath. "Stargate Command Operations Manual." Someone had scribbled in underneath the title, "Shit you should really know, but won't use often."

He raised an eyebrow and held it up, looking at Lorne.

"Yeah. One of the scientists here thought it was funny." He shrugged and then walked over with another folder. "I also have this for you. You don't have to accept it, but O'Neill wanted you to have the opportunity to look it over."

"What is it?"

"It's pretty self-explanatory."

"Give me the summary version before I open it."

"Open the damn thing," Lorne said, shoving the folder into this hands.

John made a face, but cracked open the file, unsure what he was going to find.

He had to read it twice before it actually penetrated his head. All he could focus on was "reinstated" "Lieutenant Colonel" and "full pay".

He opened and closed his mouth several times. He was utterly speechless.

"Look. I know the circumstances of you leaving weren't exactly ideal. It's up to you if you want to accept this offer or not."

After a long moment, John closed his eyes. "You're asking me to choose between a career I love and the man I'm fast falling in love with. You realize that, right?"

"You'd be working with the SGC, which is an entirely different group of people. O'Neill's in charge there and he can't exactly throw any stones if you get my drift."

John's eyes flew open and he stared at Lorne. "Are you telling me DADT is just... ignored there? How can they get away with that?"

Lorne shrugged. "We have bigger things to worry about, honestly. Also, we don't flaunt it. If you're discreet…" Lorne sighed. "Think it over. You don't have to decide now."

"I... yeah. I can't make a decision this big right away. I need to talk to Rodney first, and think about it. I... this is big."

Lorne nodded as he slid into the chair across from John, putting a plate down in front of John with a turkey sandwich on it. A bottle of water appeared next to it. "So. Other questions?"

"What's it really like out there?"

"Really like?" Lorne took a breath and leaned back. "Wild. Amazing. Scary as hell sometimes, but just…to be able to visit other planets and see things you never dreamed of…"

"And dangerous, from what I was reading. Is it worth it?"

"It's worth it. Everything we've learned…the scientists love it."

"If you were in my position, knowing what you know, would you take this?"

"John, come on…"

"No, I want to know."

Lorne sighed. "It's different for you, I think, in some ways. The SGC can offer you protection that you won't get out on your own. Rodney will always be a target for the Trust and the Goa'uld. Always. As good as McGarrett is, they're just better and they have tools you can only dream of."

"So you think this Ba'al will try again? How would working for the SGC change anything?"

"I guarantee it," Lorne said without hesitation. "He got away, but he knows Rodney is the key to more or less limitless power. What do you think? Do you think he'd walk away from his one chance to take over the Earth?"

John shuddered. "And you can't offer him the same protection as a civilian as you would a contractor?"

"No, we can't. We don't have the manpower."

With a sigh, John fiddled with the paperwork that could, theoretically, change his life yet again. "Is it a both of us or neither proposition? If one of us decides to join the program and the other doesn't want to, what happens then?"

"The program is in Colorado, so it would require you to move. It would be up to Rodney as to what he decided to do."

John sighed. "Right. I.. I really can't make a decision right now. My brain is going in too many directions for a decision like this. When would you need to know by?"

"Day or two." Lorne shrugged. "O'Neill wanted to make sure you had the offer."

"Good. I'll think about it, and once Rodney is awake and coherent, I'll talk to him. I assume he'll be read into the program and asked to sign the same paperwork I was?"

"He'll be asked, yes, but he's refused every invitation we've given him so far."

"At his point, I think he needs to be told at least some of it so he can make an informed decision. Just vague hints that it would be a good idea won't sway him. You'll have to convince O'Neill to go out on a limb and give him at the very least the bare bones, along with some assurances as to how his work would be used."

"We'll also have to see how much Ba'al told him."

"You're not going to treat him like a prisoner. He didn't ask to be kidnapped."

"No, he didn't, but we have to know what he was told and what he told Ba'al."

"I understand that, but…just remember he's been through a lot in the last few days. If you want him to eventually come on board, don't treat him like a second class citizen here."

"We're not going to do that," Lorne said.

John shrugged. "I know that's what he'll be expecting, given what he's said of the government and what I've found out about his last interactions with them."

Lorne sighed. "Any other questions about the program?"

"Not right now, but I'm sure I will. It's... a little overwhelming and honestly, I'm not at my best at the moment."

"Understandable." Lorne pushed back his chair and rose. "Eat. I'm going to get an update."

"Thank you." John watched him go, then stared at the folder in front of him. God. He didn't know how much more he could take today. He poked at the sandwich, knowing he should eat, but his appetite was non-existent.

Lorne was gone for a while and John spent the time paging through the Operations Manual. It was a little weird that they had procedures in place for alien incursions and what to do if your body was accidentally swapped with another because of an alien device.

He was beginning to wonder if he had fallen asleep and this was all just a really trippy dream. Or maybe he had really died in that rescue attempt, and all of this was some kind of fucked up purgatory

"John?" Lorne was at the door, his expression looking a little pinched. "Come on."

John was on his feet in an instant. "Rodney?"

"Awake and asking for you, but he won't be awake long."

John nodded and they went through the halls at a fast pace. As soon as he knew which room Rodney was in, John was pushing through the door, heading to his side. "Rodney?"

Rodney turned his head toward John's voice, slowly opening his eyes. "John?" he whispered, hand reaching out.

Taking his hand, John squeezed it carefully. "I'm here, and you're safe now."

"Not a dream?"

"No, it's not a dream, buddy. We came for you, and you're in a secure place with good doctors. You're safe."

"Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me," he begged quietly even as his eyelids started drooping.

"I won't. I'll stay right here," John promised softly. "Rest, and when you're up for it, you can tell us what happened."

Rodney's eyes dropped closed and his breathing evened out immediately. It sounded right, normal, not the hitched pained breathing from the house.

John closed his eyes, god, what Rodney must have gone through... He knew his own voice cracked when he looked up at Lorne. "I'll stay out of the way, but let me have a chair to sit here with him until he wakes up. I don't want him to wake up without me here again."

For a moment Lorne looked like he was going to protest, but he sighed and nodded his head. "Yeah. Okay. I'll let the General know where you are. He's in route."

"Thank you." John gave him a small smile, and accepted the chair one of the nurses brought in for him. He sat down next to the bed, slipping his hand back into Rodney's.

Someone—probably the nurses—had changed him into scrubs and had washed him down. He no longer had dried blood all over his body, but in place of the reddish-brown stains were clean white bandages.

Too many white bandages.

Rodney's beard had started growing in and he looked tired and old with it. John tried not to pay attention to the burn on Rodney's forehead. He really didn’t want to know how he'd gotten it.

Suddenly, John was just exhausted. He wished he dared climb into bed beside Rodney and fall asleep. Something was going to have to change. Neither of them could go through this again, and if that meant he had to convince Rodney to join the program, then he would do whatever it would take.

And he'd have to get Steve and Danny read in completely. Nathalie, too. He wasn't doing this alone. Not anymore.

He knew he had an uphill battle, but Rodney was worth it. Completely worth it.

But it if meant Rodney had the weight of the US government behind him, protecting him…it was worth it. There was no way in hell John was going to let something like this happen again.

He put his head down on the bed next to Rodney's arm, and didn't realize he had fallen asleep until someone was shaking him awake. "Wha?"

"A bed would be more comfortable, donna you think?"

"Carson?" John blinked a few times. "How did you get here?"

"Colonel O'Neill was nice enough to pick me up and give me a ride. His men helped me pack all of your stuff up, too. It's in a room down the hall."

"I have to stay here. I promised Rodney I would be here when he wakes up."

"Why donna we get you up on a bed, then? I really donna want to have another patient." Carson smiled kindly at him.

"All right. As long as I can stay here." John sat up straighter. "Did they tell you what this place is?"

"You can stay, aye. And I accepted my job offer." He spread his arms. "This is one of the facilities I'm workin' in now."

"You work here?" John blinked again. "Job offer?"

"Oh, aye, Rodney probably didn't tell you about it. I had a job offer. Long story short, I signed my paperwork a little while ago especially after I had a long chat with Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson."

"Oh. So you know about the aliens."

"And it seems I'll be learning more about them. Exciting, isn't it?"

"Maybe." John crawled into the bed Carson had the nurses wheel in next to Rodney's. "They offered to reinstate me in the Air Force as a Lieutenant Colonel. I don't know what to think."

"Do you want that job?"

"I don't know. I... liked what I did. Loved it. And I can see how I could make a difference here, in this program. My training background and skill set would be something the SGC could use. But... I can't and won't give up Rodney for it. I have to talk to him once he's awake and had a chance to process everything."

"Aye. It's a lot to take in and the poor lad has been through the wringer. I'm gonna confer with his doctor here in a wee bit and see how he's doing."

John nodded, but felt his eyes beginning to close again.

"Teal'c's outside standing guard. Rest, John."

"I... thank you. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Carson said, tugging the blankets up to John's chin. "You've been through a lot and you didn't get a lot of sleep lately. Rest. We'll take care of things for a wee bit."

"Thanks." John smiled again, then let himself fall back to sleep, his body taking what it so desperately needed.

Things would look better in the morning.

 

***

 

 

In all honestly, Rodney didn't remember the first few days he was at Area 51. He knew he should be more annoyed and frustrated about that—he really wanted to know if they kept the little green men here—but the pain meds kept everything away and soft.

And not being in pain was a really good thing.

Rodney knew that John was there even if he didn't remember one iota of their conversations. He knew he probably asked the same questions over and over again, but John was patient, answering each one as if it were the first time. And John was there all the time, comforting and caring, even when he woke up screaming from one nightmare or another.

Somewhere in the middle of the haze, Rodney realized Carson was there with him, too. It had to be the brogue that finally broke through into his brain, but it was good. Having Carson here watching over him made things easier. It was one less thing he had to worry about.

When he finally woke up and felt somewhat clear-headed the lights in his room were dimmed. He shifted in the bed, glancing around. The only door into the room was closed and the various monitors around him were in night mode, the various screens dimmed to allow everyone to sleep.

And in this case everyone happened to include John who Rodney had spotted in the bed next to him. He was curled up on his side facing Rodney, his face slack with sleep.

He looked tired, even in the dark. John needed a shave, too.

Rodney shifted again, adjusting his pillow so he would watch John sleep.

At some point later—how long, Rodney didn't know—John sniffed and his nose twitched. Rodney smiled to himself, loving the opportunity he had to do this.

John twitched again, his nose flaring. He shifting, rubbing the tip of his nose with his hand. A moment later, his hand was rubbing his face, fingers digging into his eyes. When he pulled his hand away, his eyes opened, immediately going to check on Rodney in the adjacent bed.

John's eyes widened in surprise when he saw Rodney was awake and watching him. Rodney offered a smile.

"Hey, there."

"Hey. You need a shave."

"So do you." He sat up and scrubbed a hand through his hair, making Rodney smile again at the way it stood up in every direction. "Do you need anything? Should I get Carson?"

"I'm okay," Rodney said, reaching out his right hand toward John.

John immediately took his hand and smiled softly. "Good. That's good."

Rodney tugged John closer. "Come here."

The other man climbed out of his bed and came to stand right next to Rodney's. He leaned down and pressed a light, chaste kiss to Rodney's lips.

"Mmm. Better," Rodney said with a smile.

"Very much so. You had me worried for a while."

"I had me worried, too." He paused, licking his lips. "I know you've probably answered this already, but…how long?"

"You were in Ba'al's hands for about five days. You've been here at Area 51 for another three days now."

Rodney really didn't want to think about Ba'al and what happened to him, so he clamped onto the next best thing. "Have you seen the little grey aliens yet?"

A strange look passed over John's face. "About that..."

"What? I was just kidding. Aliens don't exist."

"Yeah, um, they sort of do." John rubbed his free hand through his hair again. "In fact, Ba'al is sort of an alien. And, um, yeah. Once you're feeling better, they're going to ask to read you into the program again, at least to tell you what's going on, and I think you should do it."

Rodney gaped at John for a long moment. "I thought Ba'al was just blowing smoke…saying things just to make himself seem more than a sadistic bastard."

"Well, he probably was, from what I've learned about him, but the alien thing at least was the truth." John sighed. "The short version they're going to tell you about and ask you to sign nondisclosures for is basically that we have a device called a Stargate that allows us to visit other planets, and we've been going through it for a number of years now. That's why they want you so badly. Even without the benefit of alien technology, you're already ahead of their scientists. With the access to everything they've discovered, you could jump your theories ahead by decades overnight."

"Well, I am a genius."

John smiled. "Exactly. They... they offered to reinstate me in the Air Force as a Lieutenant Colonel in the program so I could join with you. And apparently, as long as you're discreet, DADT isn't something they care about. From what I've inferred, the guy pretty much running the show is dating his male civilian scientist, and since he's saved the planet a few times, they basically turn a blind eye, and extended it to everyone else in the program. I guess when you fight aliens for a living, who someone is in love with becomes a lot less important."

"Join with me?" Rodney shook his head. "I'm going back to my house and never leaving again."

John sighed. "That might not be an option. Well, it is, you can say no of course, and I'll go where you go, but... they've made it pretty clear that they think Ba'al will try again, and won't stop until he has what he wants from you. And while they could give us some pointers, they just don't have the staff to give us a contingent of Marines full time to safeguard you. Steve and I are good, but... Rodney I don't know how to stop an alien with advanced technology from getting around our security. If we join the program, you'd at least be where they can protect you and I'd have access to everything I needed to make sure you stayed safe."

"John, you know how I feel about this. You've heard me turn them down time and time again."

"I know, I know." He sighed softly. "And Carson told me why, and I can't blame you. But... will you at least let them tell you about the program, and sign an NDA not to reveal that information? It won't have anything to do with your work for now. It will just give you all the information you need to make your decision. And if you decide to walk away after that, it's fine, but if you want to work with them, we can put some clauses into your contract that would cover things like who owns your work and how they're allowed to use it."

"The last time I signed something like that, they stole my work and killed people, John. No. I can't." Rodney closed his eyes and turned his head away. He could feel himself getting angry and upset and the last thing he needed was for Carson to find out and sedate him again.

"Hey, shhh. I know." One of John's hands squeezed Rodney's, while the other carded through Rodney's hair. "You don't have to do anything you don't want, and I'll be with you, supporting you, okay? I just... I worry about being able to protect you. I want to keep you safe."

"They were women and children…innocents, John. They were just living their lives—and horribly difficult ones at the best. And they just…wiped them out for no reason other than because they could."

"I know." Lips pressed into his forehead. "And I wish I could make that go away. The only thing I can tell you is that it was a different branch of government, with different leaders who had different priorities. I can attest to the fact that not everyone in power in the armed forces is a good guy. But I do believe O'Neill is one of the good guys and will do whatever it takes to protect innocent lives, for whatever that's worth."

The door opened moments later and in came Carson, bristling with energy. "Rodney, lad, your pressure is too high for my liking. What's going on in here?"

"Sorry, Carson. It's my fault. I was just bringing him up to speed on what happened. I should have waited. I'm sorry."

"Aye, you should have," Carson said. Rodney could feel him tugging at the various leads, his hands checking his pulse. "He's been through enough."

He heard John sigh, but the other man didn't let go of Rodney's hand. "I know, but he's not a child. I thought if it was me, I'd want to know what was going on ASAP."

"And 'he' is right here," Rodney said, opening his eyes to glare up at his friend.

Carson glared right back. "You've been through an ordeal, you dinna need to be making major decisions right now, or have more information dumped on your head."

"I know exactly what I've been through," Rodney said, narrowing his eyes as Carson started fussing with the medications on the side table. "I don't need to be sedated. I’m fine."

"I'm your doctor, so I'll be the judge of that, thank you."

"Carson, I don’t need to be sedated."

Carson glared at him. "I'm not sedating you at the moment, but I will if you dinna calm down."

"I know you. You do it just to shut me up most times."

Carson rolled his eyes.

"It's true. Admit it."

"No, I willna admit to something that isna true. Sedatives can be dangerous if overused."

"When can I go home?"

"That's something you'll have to take up with Colonel O'Neill, I'd imagine. I know he and his people have questions for you and have just been waiting for you to feel up to answering them. Medically, I'd say you'll be fit enough to travel in another few days, barring complications."

"I'm not taking anything up with Colonel O'Neill—whoever the hell he is. I'm going home. You can take care of me until I'm better."

Carson shook his head. "O'Neill is the one who was in charge of rescuing you, lad. And I willna be going back with you. I'll be staying here. I decided to take them up on their offer to work with them once I saw what was really going on."

"You what?" Rodney asked, automatically shifting away from Carson. "I offered you your own lab, fully funded and you signed up with them?"

"Now, Rodney, if you dinna calm down, I will have to sedate you. But aye, I did because you dinna have access to the same level of technology they do. The work I'll be doing in genetics here will be years beyond what I could do anywhere else on my own."

Rodney pulled his hand away from John's and pulled the IV out of the back of his hand. "I can't…I’m not staying here. They had to have brain washed you or something." The oxygen saturation monitor came off next. He reached under his scrub top and pulled the leads off for the heart monitor.

"Rodney, you canna do this." Carson was pushing him down, trying to stop him. "If you canna control yourself, I will take it out of your hands."

"I can do anything I damn well want to. Get off of me you, you brainwashed sellout!"

A prick in his arm was the only warning he got that Carson had given him a sedative. "I'm not brainwashed, ya silly git. Now rest up a bit, and we can talk more later."

"No, Carson, no," Rodney argued, already feeling the pull of the drugs.

"You need to rest and not automatically assume the worst. I know well why you distrust the US government, but you're going to have to trust me now that I dinna think these people are the same. Now rest."

"No…don't…no…" The last thing he remembered was Carson looking down at him even as he still tried to fight him to get away.

The next time he woke his mouth tasted like dirty socks and it was as dry as the Sahara.

"Hey, Carson said you might need some water when you woke up." A straw was put to his mouth.

Rodney lifted his head, just enough to take a sip of the water, letting the liquid ease down his throat. A second sip was even better than the first.

He let his head drop back onto the pillow, but when he went to rub his face his hand wouldn't move more than a few inches. He opened his eyes and craned his neck, spotting the fabric restraints securing him to the bed.

"Carson, too?" he asked with a sigh, glaring up at John.

John gave him a small smile. "While we were looking for you, and then right after we found you, they read us into the program. Then made us job offers, if we choose to accept them. But for now, all anyone is asking is that you learn about why they want you, not that you actually agree to work with them, you know."

Rodney turned his head away from John, his insides tight, angry, and scared.

A hand threaded through his and squeezed. "For me, at least, I just want to keep you safe, Rodney. I.... you mean a lot to me. More than any person ever has. I can't lose you to something or someone again, and especially not if I know it's something I could prevent."

"Leave me alone."

"If that's what you want, I can leave you to think for a little while, but you won't get rid of me that easily."

Rodney didn’t reply, keeping his eyes closed. Eventually he heard John sigh and John's hands slid out of his.

"I'll be back to check on you in a little while, and I'll bring real food with me, too."

Several minutes after Rodney heard the door open and close, he finally opened his eyes, glancing around the room. He was actually alone. He had just figured John would pretend to leave.

Rodney tugged at the restraint on his right hand, shifting to see if there was a way for him to release it. Unfortunately, he wasn't double-jointed. He let his head drop back against the pillow.

He'd just gone from his gilded cage to one prison and then another prison. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone? He just wanted to do his own work, his own research and make some money while helping people. Was that too much to ask? He didn't want to be involved with secret plots, alien invaders, or his ex-wife.

He was tired. Tired of the whole damn thing. He just wanted to go home and forget any of this ever happened.

He blinked back a tear, damning himself for letting his emotions get the better of him.

The door opened, and a man Rodney didn't know came in. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. "I heard you were awake. Jack O'Neill. A pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"I can't say the same," Rodney said, hating that his voice was rough and there was no way for him to brush away the one tear that had fallen.

"I can imagine. You've been through a rough last few months." O'Neill sighed. "I also know your history with my government, and while I can't change the past, I can apologize for it. The Colonel who ultimately appropriated your research and misused it was eventually court-martialed and is in jail for treason, for both what he did in your case, as well as a few other things, like selling top secrets to enemies. He was a bastard, and it was unfortunate that you got caught up in his plots, however unwittingly."

"Fine. You apologized. You can go now."

"While I understand why you want that, I'm afraid I can't just yet. I'm not asking you to join us, Doctor McKay. I understand your reasons, and while I don't agree with all of them, I understand them. However, you've now been kidnapped twice by Ba'al, who is a deluded alien who thinks he's a God and wants to destroy our planet. So unfortunately, I'm going to have to ask you some questions, and get as much information from you as I can. We want to catch him and get him off our backs, and right now, you've been closer to him than any of my agents."

"He didn’t ask me anything. He spent his time torturing me. Preferred knives," Rodney said, shuddering a little at the memory. "I didn't tell him anything."

O'Neill relaxed a little. "That's good to know. I... was in Ba'al's hands myself a number of years ago. I know what a sadistic bastard he is. It takes a strong man to hold out against him, so that you were able to says a lot about your character."

"I'm not about ready to give anything away to anyone. I don't care who they are. I work for people on very specific projects and I vet everything to make sure it's legit. I've even worked with your government after the last debacle, but it's on things that I know won't get misused."

"And Ba'al would misuse it. If he gets his hands on you again, I have a feeling he's not going to go the question and answer route. We've recovered you twice now, so I doubt he'll take a chance on a third. He's what's called a goa'uld, which is basically a snakey alien that takes over people's bodies. We're concerned he might stick a snake in you to control you if he gets his hands on you again. And at that point, the snake will take what it wants from your head, with or without your cooperation."

Rodney shifted on the bed, looking at O'Neill a little closer. "Can you help me sit up? I can't exactly reach the button like this."

O'Neill leaned forward and adjusted the bed so Rodney was in a seated position. "Sorry about the cuffs. The Docs tell me you were resisting your medications, so they want to make sure you won't start pulling out IVs again."

"I tried to leave," Rodney said with a shrug.

"In my experience, doctors don't like it when you do that without their permission."

"Apparently," Rodney said a little dryly, "which is how I ended up in this position."

"You might want to curb that in the future. You can argue with them, but as soon as you start pulling out wires, you get strapped down to the bed."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "And this is the treatment I get from someone I used to consider a friend. Someone who you've managed to brainwash into believing the new propaganda. Carson's smart, but with certain things he just thinks it's all sunshine and kittens. You're not going to pull the wool over my eyes again."

"Doctor Beckett will be heading up our genetics research lab, looking at alien DNA and finding similarities and differences to our own. I don't think he believes it will be sunshine and kittens."

Rodney snorted. "Right."

O'Neill shrugged. "I'm not really here to talk about Doctor Beckett's decision. Can you tell me a little bit more about what, exactly, Ba'al was asking from you?"

"He wanted to know about my equations. He liked the idea of access to free power."

"I won't pretend to understand half of your equations, but from what I've been told, that would be more or less true. If he figures out how to unlock subspace power, he will destroy this planet, and probably quite a few others."

"I'm rather…attached to this planet."

O'Neill gave him a wry look. "We all are. Which is why, right now, you're probably the most important person on the planet, bar none. If you won't work for us, will you at least agree to remain under our protection for a little while, either here or in Colorado at our main base, until we can take Ba'al out of the equation?"

"I just want to go home. Why is that so hard for everyone to understand? I didn't ask for this."

"I know you didn't ask for this, Doctor McKay, but your home isn't safe right now. If we know where it is, then you can bet Ba'al does as well. And after two aborted attempts to grab you, we believe he's going to step up his efforts. Which means, for the short term at least, it's just not safe for you outside of our sphere of protection. I give you my word we have made this our top priority, and we'll hunt that fucker down as fast as we can."

Rodney sighed, turning his head away from O'Neill. He was going round and round and getting nowhere. If he was going to stay, it was going to be on his terms, though.

"How long?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure. We're tracking him, but he's one slippery son of a bitch. I'd say no less than a month, to be safe though. At that point, we could see where we are and how safe we could make your home in Mann."

"A month."

O'Neill shrugged. "It could be less, but I don't want to tell you that because I'd be lying. We don't know where he went to ground, and he's proven very good at staying a step ahead of us."

"I want my own lab. I want absolutely nothing to do with my ex-wife. None of my work will be accessible to anyone in your facility. I want it all networked independently of your systems."

"I can do that. We'll set aside a portion of the base here at Area 51 that will include a sizeable lab and living quarters for you and any of your people you want to stay. It's networked independent from the rest of the facility, so you can bring in any equipment you'd like and keep it separate. The only thing I'll ask is that you sign an NDA promising not to talk about the program or facilities when you leave. That's all."

"I want my cat."

"I'll make arrangements to have her brought here."

"Make Nathalie bring her when she comes."

"Your secretary? Fine. I'm also assuming you'll want Sheppard and your security team, McGarrett and his partner, to stay with you as well?"

"Yes, of course. If I'm going to be working here, I need to have my staff with me." He gave O'Neill the "are you stupid look".

"Right. Anyone or anything else? I can have the facility set up and your people installed here by the time Doctor Beckett releases you. They will have to sign the NDAs as well. Sheppard and McGarrett already have."

"I’m sure I can come up with other things and I reserve the right do to so."

O'Neill gave a small snort. "I don't doubt it. As you think of something, have someone send it along to me. I'll leave orders that it be passed along ASAP so I can take care of it."

"Are you happy?"

"Is that a specific or more general question?" O'Neill grinned at him.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Are you happy with my answers and the situation?"

"Honestly, no. I wish it hadn't come to this. We've been trying to recruit you for years, and have made no move to hide that from you. But this isn't the way I wanted it to happen. No one deserves to have their life uprooted like this, and I wish I could make it otherwise, but unfortunately, I can't and still keep you out of Ba'al's hands."

"Fine. That's as forthright as anyone has been so far. I appreciate that."

"I don't believe in bullshit, Doctor McKay. You might not always like my answers, but I'll always do my best to give you as honest an answer to your questions as I can."

Rodney nodded. "So you can let me up now, right?"

O'Neill shook his head. "Are you kidding? That would ensure the next time I land in the infirmary, they get even. I've fought space aliens, been killed multiple times, tortured, and a lot of other shit I won't go in to. But I will never, ever cross a doctor. They are just plain evil when you piss them off. I will talk to Beckett and tell him we had a chat though."

"Oh, come on!"

"No way. You see how fast they put those cuffs on you? I won't cross a doctor. I'll let them know you're cooperating though, and hopefully that will be enough to get them to take them off."

Rodney sighed, slumping back into the pillow. "Fine."

O'Neill patted his hand. "I'll send Beckett back in now."

Rodney snorted, glaring at the man as he headed out the door. With nowhere to go and absolutely nothing to do, Rodney opted to close his eyes. He wasn't tired, but at least he didn't have to stare at the white institutional ceiling overhead.

The door opened again a few minutes later and a familiar brogue filled his ears. "So you've decided to cooperate now, hmmm?"

Rodney opened his eyes and lifted his head, glaring at the other man. "Not like you gave me much of a choice. You tied me to the bed!"

"You tried to rip out your IV lines, and I canna have that, lad."

"Because my friend had been brainwashed by the military and had turned into a pod person."

Carson rolled his eyes. "I havena been brainwashed, I've just made a decision you dinna like. But it was mine to make."

"If you say so."

"Aye, I do. Now, if I remove these cuffs, can you behave yourself and not try to leave before you're ready?"

"I'm ready now."

"No, you aren't, not physically at least."

Rodney sighed. "I'm tied to a hospital bed, Carson. I don't want to be here, but I have no choice because someone wants to do more…nasty things to me. I just want some kind of autonomy."

Carson looked at him for a long while before finally nodding and moving to remove them. "But know if you start to try to pull out wires again before I say they're ready to come out, I'll be putting you right back in them again, lad."

"I want my life back, is that too much to ask?"

With a sigh, Carson shrugged. "Unfortunately, you're too smart for your own good, lad. For the moment, at least, you'll have to make do."

"I apparently don't have much choice in the matter," Rodney said a little bitterly.

"No, you don't, so pouting and making the lives of those around you trying to protect you hell isna going to change anything."

"It might make me feel better."

"Aye, but at what cost? People are bending over backwards to try and accommodate you, Rodney. But if you make them feel like shit for it, they'll stop trying to be helpful."

"I'm the smartest man on the planet. They should be bending over backwards to help me. I'm the one who was inconvenienced."

"And you've had a number of people who havena eaten or slept in the better part of a week now working to get you back."

"And if they'd policed their crazy terrorist friends better I wouldn't have been kidnapped!"

"And that goes for John as well? And Steve?"

"Steve should have made sure the security was tighter. That was his job."

"And you expect him to be able to counter alien technology he didna even know existed before this?"

"Of course." Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, careful of his injured arm.

Carson rolled his eyes again. "And what of your John? You'll drive him away out of spite as well?"

"What do you care?"

"Because he hasna eaten or slept since you were taken unless I forced the issue. He's nearly made himself sick out of worry for you, and is willing to throw away the second chance he's been offered in the Air Force on your say so. The lad is completely devoted to you, and yet when I saw him leaving earlier, it looked like someone had kicked his puppy."

"I don't know what to tell you. What do you want to hear? I'll say it and we can be finished with this conversation."

"I dinna want to hear anything, Rodney. I just want you to think outside of yourself for a moment, to all the people who care about you. They might not have suffered physically as much as you did, but it wasna a walk in the park, either."

"Are you done?"

Carson sighed. "Aye. I'll have some food sent in for you if you're up to eating a bit. I'd like to get you back on solid foods again so we can pull out the IV in a day or so."

"And the catheter."

"Aye, that too."

"I can try."

"All right then, I'll have something sent in. Press the button beside your bed if you need anything."

Rodney nodded, watching as Carson stalked out of the room, leaving him alone again. He sighed. He hated this whole situation, but it didn't look like he had much choice in what was going to happen to him for the next month at least. Who knew. He might end up shoved in some deep dark hole never to be seen or heard from again if some people had their druthers.

A little while later, the door cracked open and John popped his head in. "Hey, can I come in?"

"Sure. Why not? Everyone else just walks in and out as they please."

"That's not what I asked." John stepped a little inside the room. "If you don't want me here, I'll leave."

"I don't know, I’m just tired and frustrated and just…" Rodney sighed. "I hate this."

"I know." John came over to the side of the bed and took Rodney's hand. "But we'll get through it, okay? You're not in this alone."

"I'm not going to get much nicer until I'm home in my own bed and in my own house."

"I know. It's okay."

"But I'm trapped here for the next…forever."

"Not forever. And O'Neill said they're basically handing over an entire wing of Area 51 for your use. So once you're cleared medically to move, we can get you set up over there. Steve and Danny are already on the phone with Nathalie to fly her and Newton over, along with some of your other stuff to make this feel more like home for however long we're here."

Rodney squeezed John's hand. "Thank you."

John gave him a small smile. "Hopefully, we'll have it all set up by the time Carson releases you, so it won't even feel like you're not home."

"I wish this bed was bigger."

John's smile got bigger. "You totally owe me a good fucking, if I recall."

"And that's not happening anytime soon—especially with a catheter in my dick and a veritable drug cocktail in my veins. And let's not mention the holes in my body. Okay?"

With a chuckle, John squeezed his hand. "Just giving you something to look forward to."

"I just…can you just hold me? It's horribly girlish of me, but the last real touch memories I have are not very pleasant."

John nodded, scooting Rodney over carefully and climbing into bed beside him, wrapping both arms around Rodney's body. He was careful not to disturb any of Carson's wires. They finally settled with Rodney pulled close to John's chest.

He'd moved the head of the bed down as well so they were laying flat once again. Rodney was impressed that John had remembered how his left arm had been the one injured the most, so he'd made sure to turn them so Rodney was leaning on his right.

"How is this? Better?"

"Better," Rodney said quietly, letting the feeling of John surround him. He felt something let go inside of him and a surprise sob slipped from his mouth.

John just pulled him closer, and held him while he let everything out.

Fear, terror, pain, uncertainty…everything was wrapped up in each and every tear. Just the thought of having to go through anything like that again scared him to his core.

"Not alone, Rodney. I'm here, and I'll find a way to stop him, no matter what. I won't let Ba'al near you again."

Emotional exhaustion finally got the best of him and Rodney let go the remaining hiccups from his crying and John's strong arms pull him down into sleep.

 

***

 

John collapsed into a new couch that had been put in what would be the living room for the time being. He was utterly exhausted in every sense of the word. 

Today, Carson had finally cleared Rodney from the medical ward, and they had all moved into the new wing that O’Neill, true to his word, had completely outfitted for Rodney’s use for now. After a quick tour, Rodney had retreated to the lab section to, presumably, fiddle with things and get it set up just the way he wanted, as well, John assumed, to make sure it really was separate from the network the rest of the facility used. 

Even though they had found Rodney more than a week ago now, John really hadn’t had any time to process anything. He had been too focused on Rodney and getting him through the initial recovery phase to focus on his own thoughts, and now that they were relatively safe and everyone was whole and accounted for, everything was catching up with him. 

Some of the hardest things for him to deal with was not the recovery—that he was accustomed to from his own experiences in the military—but just how fragile it made Rodney seem to him. He knew the man's personality was a force to be reckoned with, but to have him crying in John's arms… God. That had nearly broken him.

He never wanted anything to happen to Rodney again that would make him so afraid, so terrified and so damaged. If he could wrap him up in bubble-wrap and hide him somewhere, he would, but there was no way in hell Rodney would let him.

And the odds of him relenting from his stance that he would never work for the program, even though they could better protect him there, were slim to none. John could understand it, but part of him regretted that he wouldn't be able to accept the offer to be reinstated. He missed that part of his life, and he hadn't realized how much until the possibility of getting it back had been put in front of him.

Carson and Rodney were still on slightly adversarial terms. Between the announcement of his new job and the whole tying Rodney to the bed thing, they were still sniping at each other. John didn't want that to happen to him.

So, he was keeping a low profile, trying to give Rodney the support he needed, and shoving everything else into the background. Unfortunately, he knew he could only do that for so long. It didn't help that he felt pretty useless at the moment—Rodney wasn't even going to need a pilot for a while.

There was a soft knock on the door, breaking into his thoughts.

He rose and went to answer the door. "Hello?"

Nathalie was standing on the other side, cat carrier in her hand. "Thank god I'm in the right place. I don't want the responsibility of taking care of his cat any longer." She shoved the carrier in John's hands. "Newton's yours now."

John smiled and stood aside for her to enter. He cooed at the cat a little, glad to see her. "Your rooms are down the hall to the right. There's a bedroom and office area."

"Good, good. I have one of the hulky men bringing my stuff."

"They're called Marines. Moving things is one of the few things they're good for."

"Mmm. Some of them are yummy." She smiled.

He rolled his eyes, and led her down the hall, pointing out the common areas, and which rooms belonged to whom. "And here's yours. Rodney is in his lab puttering, so feel free to take today to get everything set up the way you want it."

"He's working? I thought he had life-threatening injuries."

"He was released today, and I don't think he's working so much as he's making sure everything is set up the way he wants it."

"You better not let him work too hard."

"I won't, and his doctor certainly won't, so no worries there."

"I have a number of things he needs to see, but it can wait. I don't want to be the cause of his blood pressure shooting through the ionosphere."

"Yeah, if it can wait a day or two, let it. He's better, but still pretty traumatized by the whole thing. Let's ease him back into normalcy a little at a time."

Nathalie nodded. "Agreed. I'll go over some of it with Steve first, then."

"Perfect. And I'll be around if you need anything, too."

"I'm not going to bother you any more than I have to. You look beat. Go and rest while you have the chance. I'll talk to Steve about the break-ins." Nathalie turned, pushing the door open into her room.

"Wait, break-ins? What break-ins?"

"Right," she said, taking a deep breath. She turned back around to face John. "We're had a few…incidents at the house and at his main lab in town."

"Tell me."

She shrugged. "I don't know much. Security responded very quickly and they haven't been able to catch anyone in the act. Nothing's been taken, but we've had to replace a few windows. And one of the scientists reported that they've had some hackers try to get into the lab systems."

"Fuck." John rubbed a hand through his hair. "Go get settled, I'll talk to some people about what to do.

"No. I said I'll talk to Steve. This is his problem, not yours."

"It's all of our problem if it was the same guy who kidnapped Rodney behind the break-ins."

"You don't know that."

He sighed. "Just go get settled. I'll alert the people who need to know what's going on, then you can brief everyone on the details."

"Yes, sir," she said, giving John a pretty horrible salute and a smirk.

He rolled his eyes and walked out of the wing they had been assigned, hoping to find Lorne or O'Neill still here.

A heavily-armed guard at the door stopped him. "Sir. Can I ask where you're going?"

Great. When Rodney found out about the guards, he was going to throw a fit. John just hoped it took him a while to discover it. "I need to see O'Neill or Lorne, whichever is still on site."

"I can find out for you, sir. Can I see your access pass?"

He dug out the pass O'Neill had given him earlier.

"Wait here, Mister Sheppard," the guard said, picking up the phone at his desk.

John leaned against the wall, wondering how his life had managed to come to this. He was living in a military base that technically didn't exist as a civilian who's only job at the moment was, apparently, the lover of a man an alien wanted to kidnap and brainwash. It was like a bad sci-fi show on cable television.

The guard spent a few minutes on the phone talking in low tones and looking at John every now and then.

He wondered if he was going to be detained, and what charges they would come up with. All he had done was walk out the door for god's sake.

The guard finally hung up the phone and handed him back his pass. "Colonel O'Neill is no longer in the facility, but Major Lorne is in the main conference room. I can have an Airman escort you if you wish to wait a few minutes."

"Sure. I'll wait. Thanks."

"Just for future reference, sir. Your badge only allows you access to low-security areas of the facility. Those would be marked by the blue on the signs."

John looked at the wall. Their suite was red. He gave the guard a wry smile. "I'll try not to leave the area very often."

"As long as you remain in the designated areas, you won't have an issue, sir," the guard said, picking up the phone one again. After a brief conversation, he turned back to John. "Five minutes, sir."

"I'm not in a rush."

The guard nodded and settled back into his chair. His hand, though, didn't leave his weapon.

It was kind of funny. John had seen what those weapons could do, and he knew he didn't stand a chance against the guy. And he wasn't exactly built for intimidation.

The Airman arrived slightly out of breath a few minutes later. "Sir?"

John gave him as un-threatening a smile as he could manage. "I need to speak to Major Lorne."

"Main conference room," the guard added.

The Airman nodded. "Yes, sir. Right this way, sir." God, he had to be like thirteen. All young and shiny still.

John wondered how he had gotten recruited into this program, and how much of it he actually knew about. It made him feel old.

The Airman glanced at him. "Are you new here, sir?"

"You could say that."

He nodded, seemingly a little nervous to be with John and if he should actually be talking to him. "So…there's something really amazing in that red wing, isn't there?"

John gave him a wry smile. "The red wing is the home of a force of nature unto himself. The rest of us are here to keep him happy."

"Him?" The kid's eyes were wide.

"Yes." John gave what he hoped came of as a wise nod. "He's the most closely guarded galactic treasure at the moment."

"That's….wow. So you must be pretty important, sir. I’m sorry if I’m pestering you with questions, but this is all just…"

"Out of this world, I know." John reached out to pat the kid on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, just do your best to stay on your toes and learn everything about anything anyone is willing to teach you. That's how you stay alive in this business."

"Oh, I am, sir," he said with a smile. They turned a final corner and he gestured to the door. "Here's the main conference room, sir. I hope you have a good meeting."

"Thanks." John smiled again before slipping inside. He glanced around, seeing a few other people he didn't recognize with Lorne.

Lorne narrowed his eyes at him and stood as soon as John stepped inside. "Sheppard. Everything okay?"

"Not really. I just got word that someone was trying to break into the house in Mann, and some of the scientists in Rodney's main lab are reporting that there have been a few attempts to hack the network in the last week or so."

"Right." He turned to the other people in the room. "We'll pick this up later. I'll email you a meeting request as soon as I can." They all filed out, closing the door behind them. "So, what's going on?"

"I don't know a lot yet. Nathalie just got in and mentioned it. I thought I'd come grab you before we have her brief us on the details so she doesn't have to do it twice."

"Do we have any reports? Timing? What was taken?"

"It sounds like nothing was taken at the moment because security was quick to respond at the house, but some windows were smashed in. And Rodney has such detailed encryption on his lab that they weren't able to break through yet, but not for lack of trying. My guess is that Ba'al is either trying to find another way to get the information, or is trying to lure Rodney out where he can make another grab attempt."

"Agreed. We need to find out what was in the systems they tried to hack into and also what parts of the house they were trying to get into. We also need to get Steve in on this. He was out running, I think. At least that's what I was told earlier."

"Yeah, he was. Like I said, I wanted to come find you or O'Neill first so we can all ask questions and hear Nathalie's info first hand before we decide what to do next."

"Good thinking." Lorne passed for a moment. "Why don't we get Nathalie and Steve in here? I don't want to bring too many people into your wing."

"Sure. You probably want to let the guard at the door know it's approved though. I think he was convinced I was some kind of spy emerging from the wing to take down the rest of the facility."

"He has to check to know where you're allowed to go. Some people haven't signed their NDAs yet."

"Apparently I'm only allowed in blue wings. It's going to be interesting to see if he lets me go back in later, since we're apparently red."

"Oh, he knows you can go in there. That's not a problem. If a guard is not there, just swipe your access card and it will unlock the door for you."

"Good to know." John sat down while Lorne made calls to the guards to have everyone walked over. He glanced at the documents on the table. They were all marked Top Secret, so he made no attempt to even pick any of them up.

"Sorry. Let me get those out of the way. New mission for those guys next week. We were going over some the reconnaissance information."

"On another planet I assume?"

Lorne offered a smile. "You can assume anything you like."

John huffed. "Out of curiosity, if I did accept the reinstatement, what kinds of jobs would I be assigned to?"

Lorne pulled back a chair and sat down. He stared at John for a minute, obviously thinking. "Based on your sheet…I'd probably say you’d be on a first contact team."

"Huh. So I'd be one of the first to meet new people, alien races, that sort of thing, eh?" He had to admit, it sounded pretty awesome.

"Probably. I don't know what the General would finally decide, but that's what Colonel O'Neill's team does. We could use more first contact teams, in all honestly."

"How do they decide which teams do what? Or who's assigned to those teams?"

"That's up to General Hammond. He makes all those decisions."

Before John could ask any more questions, the door opened again, and the others Lorne had called for filled in. He gave them a small wave.

"John, let me introduce you to these two. First, is Doctor Radek Zelenka and after that we have Doctor Miko Kusanagi. If there's someone hacking a system, these two can find it."

He stood up to shake their hands. "A pleasure to meet you both."

"Yes yes. Evan mentioned hacking. What is this all about?" Zelenka said, already pushing past the pleasantries.

John smiled. He reminded him of Rodney. "We have reports that someone tried to break into Rodney's home in Mann, as well as the computer systems in his main lab there. This was all in the last week, after he was rescued, and he's never had any issues before, so we don't think the timing is a coincidence."

"Rodney? As in Rodney McKay?"

John nodded. "You know him?"

"Very well. You know him?"

"I'm his boyfriend." He glanced at Lorne, not knowing how much either of them knew, or were allowed to know.

Zelenka's eyes widened. "You are new. You have arrangement with Rodney and…who were the last few? Ryan. Andrew. Alexander. Yes?"

John's eyes hardened slightly. "I don't share. He's mine now."

"Yes yes," Zelenka waved his hand at John. "As if Rodney would settle down. Is he here?"

At Lorne's nod, John launched into a summary, giving them the background and bringing them up to date with what had happened so far, and what the arrangement for the short term was.

As soon as John was done, Zelenka turned to Lorne. "So he has signed NDA?"

Lorne shook his head. "Not yet. He keeps sending it back with changes."

John shrugged. "I signed it, and Steve McGarrett, his head of security signed it. Rodney knows quite a bit, but he's trying to make sure he doesn't accidently sign away anything I think."

"Yes yes. Just give him one drink and have him sign. All will be done. I must speak with him."

"I can walk over with you if you want. Maybe you can convince him to sign the damn thing so we can all stop going around in circles over it."

"Unfortunately, until he signs I can't give him access to any other people or information than he already knows," Lorne said with a shrug.

John wanted to bang his head against the desk. "Okay, he," he gestured at Zelenka, "is telling me he can't fix the hacking problem until he talks to Rodney, and now you're telling me he can't talk to Rodney until he signs that NDA. Correct?"

"I did not say that," Zelenka shoved his glasses back up his nose. "I have issue with equation I know Rodney will fix. I need his brain."

"Oh." John blinked. "What about the hacking issue?"

"Miko can figure it out in less than five minutes. Give her the access to system and it will be taken care of."

"Oh." John blinked again. "The systems that hook into the lab are in our wing, so she can access anything she needs there."

"Rodney hasn't given permission for anyone to access the systems, has he?" Lorne asked.

"As far as I know, he hasn't, no."

"Right. I need to go talk to him again," Lorne said, rising to his feet.

"Good luck, and try not to terrorize him or put him in another funk, please," John sighed. "I'm the one who has to live with him."

"Would you rather explain this to him?"

"Not really, no."

"So no complaints as to how this gets done. I'm getting…" Lorne took a breath. "I'll be back in ten minutes with your access, Miko."

John watched him go, fairly certain this was going to be another shitty night. Damn. And he had been looking forward to getting some real sleep in a real bed next to Rodney tonight.

"So how does Rodney know you?" Zelenka asked after a few moments.

"I'm his pilot. Or I was. It's sort of morphed from that original job."

"He finally has hired pilot. Bought plane, too?"

That made John smile. "A very, very nice plane. I hope the Air Force or Ba'al doesn't completely destroy it in all this. I like that plane."

"Air Force takes care of planes, yes," Zelenka said, looking at John. "So it is Ba'al who is hounding Rodney?"

"Yeah. He's managed to get his hands on him twice now, and while we've gotten him back both times relatively unharmed, we can't take the risk that Ba'al will escalate things. Hence why we're basically living here for the moment."

"And Rodney has been…checked, yes?"

"For the snake things? Yes. As I understand it, that's part of the concern, that Ba'al won't risk losing him again if he gets his hands on him and will put one in him."

"We can get snake out, but it is not pretty. Ba'al is too vain to take over Rodney. Rodney is not buff enough."

John huffed. "So how do you know him?"

"We go back years. Met in school. Argued. Fought. And yet continue to talk." Zelenka shrugged. "It is odd, yes, but it works for us."

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten him to come work with you here then."

"I have tried. Cajoling does not work. Ordering does not work. Even subtle, sneaky things do not work. He would flourish here and help weed out morons."

"I agree. Maybe working here like this will convince him that he can trust this place not to use his work for evil. I know that's his biggest worry."

"Yes, yes. He was young and would not listen to others. Said he knew better. Said he knew what he was doing. Then he gets angry when he discovers he miss-read his contract. Blames government. He is the one to blame for rushing into project." Zelenka threw up his hands. "And now he is over-cautious. It limits him, but will he listen? No."

John shrugged. "I can't force him to sign any agreements, and in a way, I can't blame him for being cautious. He's at least trying to learn from his mistakes."

"He refuses to move past them. There were errors on both sides, yes, but you need to move on and grow."

"Well, if he signs the NDA so you can come visit, maybe you can convince him to change his mind."

"That would take miracle," Zelenka said with a sigh. "And with Carter heading program, unlikely."

"Yeah, that's a major problem too. She's a bitch."

"She is good at job, but Rodney is simply better. They were interesting couple." Zelenka smiled to himself. "Fights of gigantic proportions. I imagine make-up sex was even better. But she was quick to move on, even before marriage ended."

"I got the impression she was basically using him to steal his work, and when he wouldn't let her do it anymore, she tried to destroy him."

Zelenka shook his head. "It cannot be proven definitely, but it is assumed so, yes."

"Does she run the entire program, or just the one in Colorado? I've signed the NDA's and been read into the program, but I still haven't figured out the structure. Could Rodney be offered a job here at Area 51 that would allow him to run a lab without Carter's interference?"

"She is head of science department, so Rodney would probably report to her if he worked here. It is not certain, however. There is talk of independent heads, but General Hammond had shied away from it. He prefers single line of command."

"That's how the military works, but we also have different branches, each with their own heads. Rodney might be more willing to consider it if he were given autonomy from Carter, making them each head of a facility, and both reporting back to Hammond, for example."

"Area 51 is under SGC command and is military run. I do not believe there is much hope in that. And Carter would fight to keep her command. Valuable research occurs here."

John shrugged. "Then I guess it will come down to what's more important to them—bringing Rodney on board or sticking with the status quo."

"And General has favorites."

"They usually do." John shrugged. "That's why I'm not military anymore."

They chatted until Lorne finally walked in, Steve behind him. "Miko, Airman Smith will take you where you need to go. I need you to track back the hack."

The little Japanese woman who had said nothing during the entire time, stood and bowed out of the room to follow the Airman. John gave Steve a wan smile. "So how pissed off is he?"

"The fires of hell couldn't contain his temper, but he signed his NDA."

"Well, there's that at least."

"It didn't help that he tried to leave the wing only to find out that he wasn't authorized," Steve said with a sigh. "The guard certainly got an earful."

John winced. "I was hoping it would take longer for him to discover that."

"We left him with Newton," Steve said. "So what's this about break-ins and why am I only hearing about this now?"

"I just heard about it when Nathalie came in. She mentioned she was going to find you, and I told her I would get everyone together so she would only have to do it once."

"I think she was talking to the kitchen staff about dinner," Steve said.

"Last I saw her she was getting settled into her suite. After that, I came right here."

"I thought she was supposed to keep us up-to-date on that was going on at the house," Steve said. "This is not something that should have waited until she showed up. Let me call the guy I left in charge and see what he has to say about it." Steve pulled out his cell and started dialing.

John nodded, since Lorne didn't seem like he wanted to stop him. They needed all the information they could get.

"I'm sorry I had to push the issue, but…" Lorne shrugged.

"I understand. I'm sure I'll get an earful later, but don't be surprised if he hates you because I am totally blaming you for all of it to get myself out of the doghouse."

Lorne snorted. "I'm sure you're fine."

John shrugged as Steve hung up the phone. "What's the word?"

"Mike didn't think it was a big deal. Thought it was just kids being kids."

"It might have been, but the timing is just too close. I think it was more likely Ba'al testing security to see what kind of response he would get."

"Maybe," Steve said with a sigh. "I should be there checking on things."

"Do you think you'd be better off there than here?"

"You're in a classified military installation. I think McKay's safe. I can do more for him on site. And there's something fishy about Mike's reaction. He knows what's at stake." Steve sighed again, looking to John for direction. "It's your call."

John thought about it for a few long minutes, then nodded. "I agree then. If a base full of Marines can't keep him safe, then there's nothing having you here will change. I agree, having you out there trying to track this bastard's movements will do more good."

"I'll work the details out with Major Lorne, but Danny and I will head out tonight so we can be back on Mann tomorrow morning." Steve rose, shoving back his chair. "I'll report in as soon as I know more."

"Good. You know where you can find me. I won't be going anywhere for the foreseeable future."

"You're on speed dial, Sheppard. And you know how to reach me." Steve gestured to Lorne to follow him and they both headed out, leaving John alone in the conference room.

With a sigh, John leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. He knew if he tried to leave without an escort, someone would probably try to arrest him. This not having any real job to do kind of sucked.

Although Lorne had said his pass would allow him to walk through the facility. He just couldn't get in high-clearance areas.

He decided to test it and got up, wandering out. He didn't try to go into any areas that weren't marked, but he did wonder how long it would take until someone stopped him.

A few people looked at him oddly, but strangely enough everyone left him alone. He was a little shocked at his ability to find the Red wing O'Neill had sequestered Rodney in. The guard just offered him a nod as John swiped his access key card in the reader, the light turning green and the door unlocking.

Stepping inside, he braced himself for Rodney's temper. From what Steve had said, his lover was very Not. Happy.

John headed for the lab first—the last place he knew Rodney had been. He also needed to check in on Miko and make sure she had what she needed.

He popped his head in. "Rodney?"

He spotted Miko immediately and she turned offering him a small bow. "I am sorry, but most honored Doctor McKay is not here."

He gave her a small smile. "I'll track him down. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes. This should not take much longer. I have tracked the incursion into Doctor McKay's systems and am following it back to the source."

"Perfect. If you could include me on the report when you file it, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course, Colonel Sheppard," she said offering a bow. "I do not wish to be rude, but I must continue this trace before I lose the digital trail the intruders left behind."

"Then I'll get out of your hair." He gave her a small salute and headed toward the living area in his quest to find Rodney.

When he stepped inside, the rooms were mostly quiet. He could hear a television on in the bedroom, but the living room was a mess. It was like a tornado had gone through it. There were papers everywhere and broken glass on the floor near one of the walls.

Shit. Apparently Rodney really was pissed in a major way. "Rodney?"

There was the patter of little feet and Newton appeared, squeezing through the slightly open bedroom door. She picked her way over toward John.

"Hey there, girl." Smiling, John picked her up and rubbed his face in her fur. "Miss us?"

She purred, the sound rumbling deeply in her little body.

He followed the path she had come from, going into the bedroom. "Rodney, you here?"

"Where else would I be?" came the quiet, resigned reply. John spotted Rodney in the middle of their bed, pillows stacked behind his back. He was flipping through the television stations with the remote, eyes fixed on the screen.

Sighing, John set Newton down and climbed into the bed next to him. "You know this is all only temporary. Steve is heading back to Mann today to try and work that end of things to catch Ba'al and make it safe for you again."

"Doesn't make it any less of a prison," Rodney said, shifting to lean into John. He continued a few moments later. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. We can have it cleaned up." John put an arm around him. "I'm trying to make this as easy on you as I can. I just... I can't go through that again, not knowing who has you and where you are, and whether you're even safe."

"I just…I didn't expect that."

"I know."

Rodney sighed. "I'm going to go stir-crazy."

"Tell me what I can do to make it easier. If I can make it happen without compromising your safety, I will."

"I want to go home, but that's not happening for a very long time."

"Well, at least not until we can get this cleared up. I'm sorry."

Rodney was silent. He shifted so he could rest his head on John's shoulder and started flipping through the television channels again. Newton hopped onto the bed, eventually settling down in Rodney's lap.

He wished there was something he could do to make Rodney okay with this, but he knew at this point, it was just going to take time for him to adjust.

John didn't know what was worse—this sulking or dealing with a temper tantrum.

"I met a guy who said he knows you. I think his name was Zelenka? He wants to come in and consult with you."

"Radek. He's Czech."

"Ah. He's here on the base, and when he heard you were here too, he started making noise that he wants to come in and work with you. I guess he has a problem he thinks you can solve, but until all your NDAs are signed, he can't come in and tell you anything about them."

"I signed whatever Lorne forced me to sign. They're probably already going through all of my files and computer systems. It won't be long before they just clone the drives for themselves."

"The only person here is a little Japanese woman named Miko. She's the only one we allowed in and gave access to."

"For now. She's probably the world's best hacker. I wouldn’t be surprised if she's already draining my bank accounts."

"She doesn't seem like the type. I got the impression she's a bit star-struck by you."

"She reports to Carter and that bitch wants my money. I'm sure she's mucking around in the accounts." Rodney kept flipping through the channels, never stopping for longer than a few second on each one.

John sighed. "I told Lorne that if they were serious about bringing you into the program, they would need to make you science head of this base, leaving Carter as head of their Colorado base. Each of you equals, not reporting to each other, but to the General who runs the program."

Rodney snorted. "That'll never happen. She's the golden child. She gets what she wants. Her father is a high-up mucky-muck. She gets what she wants and if she can't have it she ruins it."

"Be that as it may, that's what I told him. If they really do think you're their best hope for some of this shit, then they need to start sucking up to you by giving in to some of your major requirements."

"They won't."

"Then it's their loss. Saying no without giving any wiggle room makes it our issue. Saying you'll do it if certain conditions are met—which are completely reasonable in this case—puts it in their court, and when we walk away, they can't say it was anything except their own stubbornness that caused it."

"What does it matter? They have what they want. They have access to my work and all of my files. They have me locked away so I can't bring any other attention to their precious secret program and I signed away any rights I had hours ago."

John sighed. He knew right now there was nothing he could say to pull Rodney out of this funk. Unfortunately, only time and seeing that these people weren't out to get him would help.

And assuring him that the world—and the US government—wasn't out to get him. John let the silence grow between them and simply held Rodney as he surfed the television channels. It was probably close to an hour later when John heard something in the living room.

He glanced up, trying to decide if it was worth it to move.

"Hello? Is there anyone alive in here?"

"Hello? In here."

The crunching of glass underfoot continued and then a head popped into the bedroom—complete with crazy wild hair. "There you are. Do you know there must have been localized weather phenomenon in your living room? I may have to bring in sensors to examine evidence."

John smiled at the Czech he had met earlier. "Doctor Zelekna, right?"

"Yes yes. Is Rodney…yes, he is. He is playing lump on log. Rodney, what are you doing lying in bed?"

John felt Rodney stir, shifting to glare across the room. "Exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, not that's it any of your business. Are you finished going through my files already?"

Zelenka rolled his eyes. "Miko has found perpetrator and given tracking information to burly men who will go make them sorry for messing with you. She locked down all your files to ensure no one but you can access them in the future as well. We are not interested in stealing."

Rodney snorted. "Right. You work for my ex-wife."

"And I do not like her, so I find ways around her. She is bitch, yes? So we play nice when she is there, then ensure all work is encrypted so she cannot access what we do not wish her to have. Miko has given you same level of encryption we use on our personal systems."

Rodney sighed loudly. "What do you want, Radek?"

"I would like for you to stop acting like three-year-old throwing temper tantrum and instead think like scientist, but we cannot always get what we want, yes? Instead, I will lure you with problem I have encountered."

"I'm still injured," Rodney said, turning away.

"If you are well enough to destroy suite, you are well enough to work." Zelenka came around and handed the laptop he had been carting under his arm to Rodney. "This will make you feel better, regardless. It is theories on how wormholes work, and how we could harness energy they produce to create clean power source."

Rodney shifted away from John, sitting up a little straighter. He winced a little—he was still healing—but looked down at the equations Radek showed him. It took him less than a minute to respond. "No wonder they don't work, you're trying to break the laws of physics—again."

"Ahh, but the laws as you know them are not always correct." He reached over to pull up another document that completely went over John's head when he looked over Rodney's shoulder. "These are proven, and are what we started with."

"Proven? By what? A dream? Nononono. You can't even begin to think this makes any sense. You can't break the laws of physics to pretend your equations are right.

John slipped out of the bed and out of the room, leaving the two of them arguing over equations. It was nice to see Rodney getting some of his spark back. With luck, this would be the first step toward him accepting all the changes in his life recently.

 

***

 

Rodney sighed, pausing at the coffee maker in Nathalie's office just outside of his lab. He'd already been up four hours and it was just getting onto nine in the morning.

He'd gotten a brain storm in the middle of the night and ended up in the lab at five in the morning, even before John went for his run. Radek's equations—even after a month of working on them—were still wrongwrongwrong—but Rodney was having difficulty figuring out why. He'd re-written most of the equations twice already, but some of them just weren't working out.

He'd done some additional research on his own—based on what he could cull from Radek and Miko—but things just didn't make sense.

The brainstorm last night had thankfully moved him forward again, much further along than he'd been in days, but his brain was still working through the next few steps.

John wandered out from his morning shower, hair still damp. "Hey. Making progress?"

"Some. Not as much as I wanted." Rodney eyed John, liking how lean and muscular he was getting.

The other man moved closer and wrapped his arms around Rodney, moving in for a kiss. "O'Neill called a little while ago too. He's inbound and wants to meet with us to update us on what's going on."

"You mean the whole lot of nothing going on?"

"Probably, but he doesn't want us to think he's forgotten about us, I think. Steve and Danny got back from Mann last night, too, and have an update on what they've found there."

"How was it outside?" Rodney asked, careful as he wrapped his arms around John. He had his mug of coffee to consider.

"Hot. I think I'm going to convince the Marines to just let me use their gym."

"I thought you were using their gym already."

"Not really. I convinced one of them to let me bring a few pieces of the equipment over here, but they took it back when they needed it. I'd really like to use the treadmill on days when it's over one hundred outside."

"I do have to say these new muscles are kind of hot."

"Oh really?" John raised an eyebrow and shifted his hips a little against Rodney. "Busy now, or do you have some time to... explore my new muscles?"

"Mmm…maybe in a little while. I'm in the middle of something now. I just came out here to get some coffee." His body, though, was perking up at the idea of a little mid-morning exercise. He'd rushed out of bed and had missed their usual morning romp. He'd finally reached a point about a week ago where nothing hurt anymore and they'd been making up for lost time.

John's hips shifted against him again, and Rodney could feel his interest. "They say doing something else for a little while and letting your brain rest can help you be more productive.'

"Who is this 'they' you speak of? Have you been talking to the anthropologists again?"

"No, I'm making it up to get you to come have sex with me, and I wanted to make it sound believable." John grinned at him.

Rodney laughed. "You know you don't have to make up excuses. You could also just come in here and start fooling around. There's no one here to say you can't. And I think Nathalie likes watching sometimes."

"I'd rather have you all to myself."

"You've mentioned that before," Rodney said, shifting them closer to the desk so he could put his coffee cup down. "What's with this alpha male thing you have going on?"

"I've seen the way people, male and female, look at you. They all want you, but you're mine." John reached one hand between them to stroke Rodney through his pants.

"John," he groaned even as he bucked up into John's hand. "You like…like being top dog here, don't you? No one questions anything you say. Not here. Even Steve answers to you now."

John hummed. "You're mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

"I'm surprised you didn't just walk in here, hit me over my head and drag me to the bedroom. You've got the muscles now."

"Tempting." John started tugging him back toward the bedroom. "Why don't I just order you into the bedroom and tell you to strip so I can ravage you instead?"

"Do you think it would work?"

"Let's try it. Go into the bedroom, strip, and lay down on the bed, spread eagle, on your stomach so I can play with your ass."

"Just like that?" Rodney asked with a smirk. The low burn of arousal was starting deep in his gut. He loved the power John had now—even more than before. The extra muscles and strength reminded him just how male his lover was and it excited him. Rodney didn't know if he'd ever been this aroused and excited by a lover before.

"Mmm hmm. I'm going to play with your ass, spread you wide and get you so turned on you're incoherent with it. Then I'm going to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress."

Rodney dug his fingers into John's back, pulling him closer. "Is that a promise?"

"It is."

Rodney slid his right hand up to cup the back of John's head and pulled him in for a deep and dirty kiss. When he pulled off, he stepped out of John's grasp and grinned at his slack-jawed expression. "Don't wait too long," he said as he headed out the door and down the hall to their private quarters.

As soon as Rodney hit the bedroom, his clothes ended up on top of the overflowing laundry basket—he really needed to get that done—and he was on the bed, naked, hard, and wanting.

John had followed behind him, stripping more slowly, and Rodney heard him making a soft purring noise that only ever came out in the bedroom when he was feeling particularly dominant.

Although it had been happening more and more recently. It was like the whole military thing was rubbing off on him. And Rodney wasn't complaining. Privately, he thought the whole alpha male thing was sexy.

The bed dipped as John climbed up behind him. Strong hands ran down his back to his ass, spreading it wide. John didn't give him any other warning before two fingers, already slick with lube, were pressed in fast and deep.

"God yes…" Rodney groaned. It had only been a day since John had fucked him, but in his opinion the more times the better. He shifted his hips, pushing back into John's fingers. He knew he was a pushy, demanding, selfish bottom, but he didn't care.

Still purring, John put his other hand on Rodney's back, pushing down just hard enough to ensure Rodney couldn't move. He just had to lie there and accept what John was giving him.

It didn't take long before Rodney was rock hard and squirming—or trying to squirm in any case. John's hand held him securely while his other hand continued doing wicked things to his ass.

At some point, John added a third finger, and started to finger-fuck Rodney in earnest, making sure to tag his prostate on every thrust.

Each and every time Rodney tried to push back, to shove himself up into John's hand, the other man pushed him back down, leaning heavier on him to make sure he couldn't do anything. That strength…gah… It just made him want more.

True to his word, John kept up the assault until Rodney was unable to do more than make a high-pitched keening noise, begging for more. When John's fingers left him completely, before he could protest, he found himself flipped over in one powerful move by his lover, and then John buried his cock to the hilt inside Rodney's body, nearly bending him in half to get the right angle to seriously fuck him.

"Yes!" Rodney managed to get out before John just started powering into him, shoving Rodney up the bed with each thrust.

When Rodney didn't think he could take much more, there was suddenly a firm hand on his dick, jerking him off in time to John's thrusts. "Come for me, Rodney. Come now."

Rodney had no choice, but to obey, striping John's hand and his own stomach as he came. John fucked him through it, wringing every last bit of semen out of his body.

Just when it was starting to get to be too much sensation, John yelled and Rodney could feel him coming, so deep he could almost taste it.

John collapsed on top of him, nearly squashing him into a pretzel. All it took, though, was a soft whine from Rodney and John was moving, shifting Rodney's legs off his shoulders and pulling out before collapsing again—panting heavily—next to Rodney on the bed.

They stayed like that for a long time, until both of them could breathe normally again. It was John who finally broke the silence. "So, did it live up to the promise?"

Rodney hummed, nodding as he carding his fingers though the hair at the back of John's neck. "I probably shouldn't admit to you how much that alpha male thing turns me on."

That got him a softer version of the dom-purr John had used during sex. "Good to know, since when it comes to you, I find I can't help myself."

"With other guys it was different. If they even tried to do that I'd probably have kicked them out of my bed. But with you…" Rodney let out a long breath. "You make me stupid sometimes."

Soft lips pressed into the side of Rodney's neck. "We just work, you and I. As corny as it sounds."

Rodney huffed. "So when are you going to accept the job from O'Neill? We both know you want to. Hell, people are already calling you Colonel Sheppard. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. You preen every time."

John huffed back at him. "I won't deny I want it, but I won't take it unless I know I stay with you. When you go back to Mann, I'm going with you, and I couldn't do that if I was in the military. I don't want it if it's not with you."

"And we both know how likely that is. I'm never going to see my house there again, am I?"

"Not never. But we'll probably have to make it more of a vacation home. But before we decide anything, I want to hear what Steve and O'Neill have to say."

"Come on, John. We both know that no news in this case is not good news. We've been dancing around the topic for weeks, but if they'd caught Ba'al they would have told us already. And I keep getting more and more requests for consults each day. At the rate they're going, I'm going to bankrupt them if I take all of them."

John chuckled. "I'm surprised you don't want to try to go that route. But seriously, I don't want you taking a job you don't want. If we have to figure something else out, then we will."

Rodney sighed. "That's the thing. Some of these equations are just so far off these people are liable to kill themselves and a lot of other people. I just…I can't just let it go. And that sneaky Czech keep giving me hints as to what else is going on in his department."

"He's determined to recruit you, now that he has you in his sights."

"I know." Rodney sighed again. That was the thing. He didn't know. He knew he wanted nothing to do with his ex, but Radek was another story. They'd worked together before and some of the stuff was just…stunning.

"When I've talked to O'Neill over the past few days, he's dropped hints that he might have an offer for you that you could live with. So why don't we hear him out?"

"It's not like I have much choice but to listen to what he has to say. O'Neill's another sneaky bastard." Rodney sighed again. "If…and I do mean this as a hypothetical question and you are not to read into this, but if something was decided, I couldn't live like this. I'm not an outdoor person, but I need to be able to see the sky again. I can't remember the last time I was outside."

"Yeah, I'm starting to go a little stir-crazy myself, and I've at least been allowed out to jog in the mornings. We would have to see what kinds of options we'd have other than living in a bunker."

"I miss real air."

"Yeah." John hugged him tight for a moment, then relaxed again.

"That was fun. We should do it again sometime," Rodney said after a few minutes of silence. He shifted again, rolling them so he could lean on John. He ass complained a bit making him groan and he felt something wet ooze out. Rodney immediately turned, checking the sheets. He didn't think John had been rough enough to tear him…

"I came really hard." John grinned. "And we will definitely be doing that again. Let me go get something to clean us both up."

"You went bareback?"

"I, um, sort of forgot to grab a condom. I'm sorry. I'm clean, and I swear it won't happen again."

Rodney shifted up onto his elbows so he was looking down at John. "You claimed me! Next thing I know you'll give me a huge hickey on the side of my neck everyone can see."

"Does the one on your ass count?"

"You did not." Rodney craned his neck to look and sure enough there was a big ass bruise on one of his cheeks. "You did!"

"Mine."

"You bit me! You could have…typhoid or something!"

"So coming inside you without a condom doesn't bother you as much as a hickey?"

Rodney whipped around, scowling at John. "I didn't say it bothered me. Do you know how many germs are in a human bite?"

"No, and I don't think I want to."

Rodney narrowed his eyes at John, but found that he really couldn't be mad at him. Not for this. For all he knew, he probably encouraged it when John had him writhing in pleasure. And it was kind of…nice to be marked like that. No one had before. Granted, this was the longest continuous relationship he'd had—after his wife. The rest were just holes to fuck.

John reached out to pull him into his arms again. "You're mine, and if I thought you'd let me get away with it, I would leave hickeys all over your body so everyone would know to stay away."

"I think the Alpha stalking and hovering is quite enough to warn everyone off."

"They still lust after you, so apparently not."

"I have no problem with people lusting after me. People should lust after me and my magnificent brain. My ass is pretty magnificent, too."

John growled. "You're mine."

"And? People are allowed to look."

"No, they aren't."

"Yes, they are."

"You belong to me, and only me. No one else gets to have you like this. They can have your brain, but your body belongs to me."

"I didn't say they could have me, idiot," Rodney said, smacking the side of John's ass. "I said look. I didn't say touch."

"Hmph."

"So then should I start complaining when everyone looks at you when you run? You should hear the comments in the mess when I go there to get an afternoon snack."

"All right all right, I'll try to curb my jealousy a bit when it comes to looking. Anyone tries to touch, though, and all bets are off."

"You know, maybe I should put a sign on you," Rodney said as he narrowed his eyes at John who was still lying beneath him.

"One that says I'll kick their asses if they try to make a move on you?"

"No, one that says 'hands off, my lover knows how to build nuclear bombs'." Rodney tilted his head and then shifted, leaning down. He licked a patch of skin just beneath John's right ear and then started sucking and biting at it.

John moaned and tilted his head to the side. "Yeah…yeah I... like that idea, too."

Rodney worried and worked the skin until there was a really nice—and semi-large—patch of reddened skin on John's neck. He smiled. That should bruise nicely in a little while. "That's better."

"Mmmmmm."

Rodney chuckled, threading his fingers through John and drawing their hands up above his head. "I think that will get the message across."

"Yup. We're both well and truly taken."

"Yours is a little more…evident than mine is." He tilted his head to the side to look at it. "I may have gone a little overboard."

John rolled them so Rodney was on the bottom again. "I'll just have to fix that, then."

"What! I was kidding." Rodney tried to pull his hands away from John's, but the other man was holding on tight.

John dove in and captured a piece of Rodney's neck, working at it for a bit. He didn't go as long as Rodney had when he pulled away. "There. Now you have two—one for everyone to see, and one that's mine."

"You marked me," Rodney whined, licking his lips. His body might think this was very hot, but his cock was still out for the count.

"Twice."

Rodney lifted his head, pressing his mouth to John's.

The kiss was long and lazy and stayed soft, which was a nice change from the heated, almost carnal sex before.

When they finally broke off with nipping light kisses, Rodney smiled up at John. "Mmm. So when are you going to pull me away from work again for a little morning delight?"

"Whenever I think I can get away with it."

Rodney tuned his head to glance at the clock, surprised that it was nearing 10:30. "I think you've distracted me enough this morning."

"So I guess that means I can't convince you to join me for a post-sex shower?"

"I need to shower. I smell like a brothel."

"See, so I haven't distracted you enough. I still get post-sex shower time."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I'm not getting it up again yet."

"Me neither, but that doesn't mean we can't be intimate. That does include more than sex, you know."

"I know." Rodney squeezed John's hands. They were still entwined together above Rodney's head.

"Good. So let's go shower so you can get some work done before the big meeting later."

"I guess," Rodney said, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a half smile. "Are you trying to keep me from freaking out about it?"

"Maybe. But then again, maybe I just like spending time with you."

"There is that, but I know you." He narrowed his eyes at John. "Is that why Nathalie wasn't in the office when you came in? Did she set you up to get me all relaxed?"

"No, that was just a happy coincidence."

Rodney titled his hips up. "No. That's a happy coincidence. Her planning stuff is just that—advance planning. She's sneaky."

John laughed softly. "Be that as it may, in this particular case I didn't plan the seduction. I just walked out and you were standing there looking very fuckable."

"I was just getting coffee."

"You were standing there looking fuckable."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "We should shower."

John kept Rodney in the shower until the water ran cold, but in all honestly he didn't care. He loved that John could distract him like that, could fuck him like that, could simply play with him like that.

They ended up heading to the mess for an early lunch—Rodney's concentration was ruined anyway—and they got a variety of stares thanks to the very visible hickeys on their necks. By the time they made it through lunch, John was already leading him down to the main conference room where they were supposed to meet with O'Neill and Steve.

When they arrived, the other two were there, along with Danny, and Major Lorne.

"Let me guess," Rodney said as he moved to one of the chairs on the far side of the table. "You didn't find him and I'm stuck here indefinitely."

O'Neill gave a half-shrug, "We didn't find, him, no. He's a sneaky fucker. But, I don't want you cluttering up my base indefinitely. So. I have an offer which, if you choose to accept it, includes a house that is on the grounds here and under the protection of the base, but still a little more like a home and less like a barracks."

"On the grounds."

O'Neill nodded. "It's already built, actually. We're looking at restructuring the science department a bit. Carter is going to remain head of the Colorado base when it comes to science, but we've decided to give each of our other research facilities their own heads. We'd like you to take over as the head here at Area 51, which would include the house."

"So my front yard is an airplane runway? Somehow, I don't think that's exactly what I had in mind."

"Actually, the house is set about a mile from the main facilities here. It's still within the base grounds and all that has to offer—including the 24/7 security—but it would give you a measure of privacy. It's also networked into the computer systems here so you wouldn't have to drive over for access."

"So I’m just exchanging one prison cell for another."

O'Neill sighed. "It's not a prison, McKay. If you want to leave, go right ahead. But just know we can't protect you from Ba'al all the time that way. We know he's out there, and from the report I got from your security chief here, we know he's trying to find a way to get to you. I'm trying to find a way to make this a bit less traumatic for you, but I'm not holding a gun to your head."

"No. You're holding something far worse, the threat that if I leave your security I'll find myself sitting in the passenger seat in my own body." Rodney sighed. "What do I get if I decide to take you up on this offer? What kind of money are we talking about and what does that mean for my personal research?"

"In addition to the network that ties in here, you can choose to create whatever private network you want there, and you can feel free to work on anything you want, as long as it doesn't infringe on the NDAs. As for the job here, you would be in charge of the labs and all the work done here with Radek Zelenka as your second. Zelenka currently more or less runs this facility, but he's been pushing to have you named head."

"I thought he was assigned to Colorado."

"He was originally, but had transferred here a few weeks before the incident that brought you here."

"And what about the work I do within the program. Will any of it be publishable?"

"Some of it, yes. One of the reasons we're giving each lab its own head is that we hope to be able to find ways to start bringing some of this into the public slowly. We don't want to flood the market with alien knowledge, but at the same time, we'd like to start dribbling little bits of it out, and one of your jobs would be to determine the best ways to do that."

"I'd have access to this supposed 'alien' technology?" Rodney made air quotes around the word. "What kind of clearance will I have?"

"You would have full clearance to the base."

"Everything?"

"Yes. You would be the head of the science wing, while Colonel Everett will remain in charge of the military component."

"Everett? I don't know him. How about Lorne?"

O'Neill raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Lorne, who was blinking. "Lorne is currently the head of our second gate team. I don't know that he wants to be traded permanently to Area 51."

"I want someone I can trust. I don't know Everett."

"Well, if Sheppard agrees to accept the re-commission, I'd consider putting him in charge here."

"And who would he answer to?"

"We all answer to General Hammond, who heads up the program and is based in Colorado. Hammond answers directly to the President of the United States and the IOC."

"Who would John answer to?" Rodney repeated. "You?"

"He would answer to Hammond, but yes, I get sent out with orders on Hammond's behalf when the need arises. Frankly, we have enough to worry about with what's going on in space. Area 51 is part of the program, but as long as no one is taking the Asgard out for shots or blowing shit up, I don't want to know about it."

"What about DADT?"

"Like I told Sheppard, as long as you're not flaunting it, frankly, we don't care. We fight aliens from other planets on a regular basis, McKay. Shit like who you fuck becomes a lot less important. I'm not saying it's not still out there and you'd have to be cautious outside of the base, but here, as long as you're not, ah, walking around with huge matching hickeys, you should be good."

Rodney turned to John, eyeing his rather prominent hickey before turning back to O'Neill, pinning him with a hard look. "I don't want Sheppard to get in trouble because we're doing something perfectly legal in my country."

O'Neill shrugged. "As long as you aren't flaunting it in front of people who aren't part of this particular program, it won't be an issue."

"Right. So it will be a problem at some point because you know I have the subtly of a nuclear explosion. And you never answered my question about compensation. Don't think my gratitude at not ending up dead will last forever."

With a sigh, O'Neill pushed a piece of paper toward Rodney. "That's the full package we're offering, including salary and benefits."

Rodney pulled it toward him and opened the folder, scanning the details quickly. "Three million a year. That's all? I pay Sheppard two million a year. You can do better than that." He closed the folder and shoved it back.

John glanced at him. "I thought you stopped paying me when we started sleeping together because you don't sleep with employees."

Rodney huffed and turned to John. "No, I haven't stopped paying you. You're still on the payroll and can we not discuss that right now?"

"Huh. I didn't know that. I never check my bank account. But sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

"So?" Rodney asked, turning back to O'Neill.

"That's just the cash salary. As you can see, we're also providing you with a house, full time security, food, even transportation, not to mention the best health care in the galaxy right now."

"Ten million. A year. That's not negotiable. And I can still take on speaking assignments and other projects if I see fit and I keep all that money. I run several companies, Colonel. I'm not going to vanish into the great unwashed of your program. You want my time and my genius, you have to pay for it."

"Five million. I'm giving you your own team of highly-trained Marines to protect you. That's worth at least a few million dollars right there."

"I have my own security, which I pay. Ten million."

"While they're very good, they can't protect you from people like Ba'al. I can go up to eight million."

"No. You can go up to ten because I'm not saying yes to anything less." Rodney looked at him for a long moment and rose to his feet. "I can say no to everything, Colonel, and start refusing to help your scientists. I know I've already done more for the program in the last month than all of your current scientists have in the last year. And I'm just charging a consultation fee."

O'Neill sighed. "Fine, McKay. Ten million. You're a pain in the ass, but we need you, or so I've been told."

"I want nothing to do with my ex-wife. She's not allowed to step foot in this facility."

O'Neill winced. "I can promise she won't be involved in the running of the facility, but we do occasionally need to come over here for one thing or another. I'll do my best, but that's one thing I can't promise, because I can't guarantee I can keep it, and I'd rather not lie to you."

"She steps foot in this facility and I walk out. It's very simple. See to it you don't screw the pooch, Colonel," Rodney said, sitting down again. "I have the final say on hires and fires within this facility."

"On the science side, yes. You'll be running the program, so you'll be making those decisions. When it comes to the military personnel though, I can't give you authority over them, although they will know to treat your orders as they would a commanding officer."

Rodney paused for a moment, thinking that point over. "Fair enough. I will, however be doing a full audit of the personnel here and will fire whoever does not meet my expectations. Or else you can give them to Carter. I don't care if she blows up her labs."

"We'll transfer anyone you'd like to get rid of to another facility, but please don't fire them until I've had a chance to at least try to place them somewhere else."

"Fine. I'll let them blow up other facilities." Rodney paused, tapping his finger on the table. "I want my personal chef in the house and I want her to have access to any food she requires and requests."

"As long as she passes the background check and signs the NDAs, I have no problem with that. That goes for any of your staff you want to bring into the house. I don't care who you hire for yourself, but they do have to pass a minimum background, and they will have to sign the NDAs to be allowed to come onto the grounds."

Rodney waved off O'Neill's concerns. "Steve already put everyone in my house and main companies through background checks more detailed than you ever do. I'll give him permission to share the findings with you."

"That's fine. I'll get him copies of the NDA forms, and as soon as those are on file, you can staff up your house."

"My personal research is still off-limits."

"I already said you can keep your house network separate, and I give you my word no one will try to snoop there. There is one room already wired into the base network for access, so just don't plug your computers into that room and you'll be fine."

"I’m guessing that anything I develop while working for you belongs to the US government."

"If it's done for this base, then yes, although if you have concerns about a specific project, track me down and we can negotiate on a case-by-case basis."

Rodney nodded, going through the list he'd had in his head. "Carson is my personal physician. I want him in this facility."

"Doctor Beckett will be the head of the genetics labs, which is partially based here, yes, but also in Colorado. You can take it up with him if he continues to treat you as a personal physician. I have no objections to it if he doesn't."

"His department reports to me?"

"Somewhat. He'll be autonomous to a certain degree, but when he's here he'll technically be under your supervision, and when he's in Colorado, he'll technically be under Carter's. We're looking into just making his department its own entity, but we haven't worked that out yet."

"I'll get full disclosure of the program?"

"Yes. You'll have access to everything being done in Colorado as well, just as Carter will be able to access the research here. I know you might not like that, but we can't have the two facilities operating completely separate. The ability to share research and information back and forth is one we can't compromise on."

Rodney shook his head. "I can't have that."

"Too much of our research is split, McKay. Things we bring back through the gate are sent here, and vice versa."

"I will not have Carter accessing my files. Is that clear enough for you?"

"You can keep your own files separate, that I don't care about. But the overall access between bases needs to stay open."

"Anything I work on can go directly to you and then down to her. She will not access any files I work on directly. Is that clear? If not, I will walk."

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "Like I said, you can keep your own personal work on a separate network, and if you'd like to filter out your specific projects for us, we can work around that as long as you're not going to restrict access to the rest of the work being done."

"You might think I'm overly dramatic, Colonel, but she has sticky fingers and the tendency to claim work as her own. Although, from what I remember, you know things about her on a much more personal level." Rodney narrowed his eyes at the older man. "She took a lot of things from me and I will not allow that to happen again."

O'Neill sighed. "Yes, I slept with her once, and only once, McKay, and it was a mistake on my part. I was drunk, Daniel had died, and she offered. I've always regretted that I allowed it to happen."

"She was married to me at the time, Colonel."

"I know, and I was sorry pretty much as soon as it happened. Alcohol and depression were no excuse. I should have been strong enough to say no."

"Yes, you should have," Rodney said quietly, lowering his eyes. He took a moment to compose himself.

"I won't pretend I'm perfect, McKay. None of us are. I will do my best to keep the two of you separate and prevent her from accessing your work directly, though."

"I want all of this in writing."

"That's a given. My government likes paperwork."

"Once I confirm everything is correct, I'll sign off on it and any other NDA forms you need me to—after checking them over, of course." Rodney stood. "I'll be waiting on you to get those turned around."

"You'll have them all by the end of this week. Do you want to see the house? I can take you over there now if you do."

"By the end of the week? I would think you'd want this done faster."

"Odds are good you will have it faster, but I want to make sure we get everything correct the first time."

"Fine," Rodney nodded. "So I get a tour of the house?"

O'Neill stood up. "I'll take you there now." He paused. "Did we ever decide if Sheppard is actually accepting the re-commission and assignment as base commander?"

"That's up to him," Rodney said, turning to John.

John blinked. "You mean you want me to decide now?"

Rodney shrugged. "I want someone I can trust running this base on the military side. It's either you or Lorne."

"Lorne likes being on a gate team." John looked around the room, then finally nodded. "As long as it's understood that I'm not giving up Rodney, then yes, I'll accept it."

"Make sure it's really what you want—and you're getting the money you want," Rodney said. "I probably have to take you off my payroll soon, if that's the case."

John chuckled. "The pay grades are standard based on rank, so there's not much to negotiate there. And, yeah, I have to admit, I miss the planes."

"You don't have to decide right this minute." Rodney turned to O'Neill. "Does he have to decide right this minute?"

O'Neill shook his head. "No, but I will need to know relatively soon."

"So he'll think about it and get back to you," Rodney said. "So, how about that tour?"

O'Neill chuckled softly, but headed out the door, leading them outside to a jeep that was standing by waiting for them.

Rodney paused just outside the door of the facility, angling his head up toward the sunlight. It was hot—hot and dry—but it was outside and daylight and real air.

O'Neill was talking as he walked to the jeep. "The house is about a mile from here. We'll give you a driver to ferry you back and forth."

Rodney took a deep breath and felt something settle in his head and his body.

They drove out to the middle of nowhere, until they hit a secondary fence line with its own set of guards. O'Neill flashed their passes and they were allowed through. "We decided to give your house its own perimeter for an extra level of safety. In fact, we built it big enough that if another similar situation ever comes up, with your permission of course, we can temporarily house someone in your guest wing and be assured they are secure."

"You just built this?" Rodney asked, his surprise leaking into his voice.

"We started on it when we recovered you from Ba'al. We figured even if you didn't end up using it, it's a good to have a safe house we can shuffle people to when the situation calls for it."

Rodney exchanged a look with John who was seated beside him in the back seat. "Has Steve gone through the house yet?" They'd left Steve, Danny, and Lorne back at the Base.

"Yes. That was one of the things he did when he got back before the meeting. He was also involved in designing it."

"And you didn't tell me this before, why?"

"I thought you'd think it was presumptuous and it would make you more pissed and determined not to work with them."

Rodney huffed. "You're right."

John laughed and put an arm around him. "Plus, it's more fun this way. I haven't seen it at all yet either, and we can go be amazed together."

"Amazed or frightened," Rodney huffed, leaning into John.

"We can be both."

The rest of the short ride to the house was done in silence. At first glance, the house was butt ugly, but it was huge. Landscaping was non-existent, but it was new construction so it would come along. There were lots of windows—which Rodney hoped were UV protected and bullet-proof.

They pulled up to the front door and stopped. "I had a feeling you wouldn't want the place crawling with Marines, so for now it has a small staff of soldiers, but once you move it, you'll have just a few of my men, and the rest will be your security team. Marines will man the perimeter fence 24/7."

"Number of bedrooms?"

"In the main wing where we situated a private lab for you as well as the room that's networked back to the main base, there are five bedrooms and three offices. There is also another wing that has an additional ten bedrooms, and both share the common area that includes the kitchen and dining room, as well as a few other common areas."

"Safe room?"

"There are two, one in each wing. Those aren't completely done yet. Once complete they'll lead to a bunker further out on the property that will also be manned by Marines. For the moment, they're just rooms."

Rodney nodded and let O'Neill lead him into the house.

The main entry was open and actually pretty inviting. "For the most part, the place is already furnished, but we left the bedroom and your private lab/office for you to decorate as you see fit. All the windows are bullet and shatter proof."

The kitchen was high-end, complete with professional appliances and a ton of storage space. There were three bedrooms in the one wing on the first floor and two upstairs, including the master. The other side of the house was split pretty evenly—five bedrooms per floor.

"We assume you'll want to house your personal staff in your wing, and then any guests or refugees we can house in the other wing. Marines stationed here will live in a barracks building out back that, I must say, is nicer than any barracks I've ever lived in."

Rodney nodded. The house was pretty impressive. It wasn't something he would have built, but it might work for them. Standing in the master bedroom, he turned to O'Neill. "Can you give us a few minutes?"

"Of course. I'll be downstairs."

Rodney waited until O'Neill was done and then walked over to the window, looking out as he waited a few more beats. "So."

"It's impressive, I have to give them that." John looked around. "The real question, though, is if you think you can be happy here."

Rodney shrugged. "I don't know. This isn't what I wanted."

John stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Rodney. "I know. It's not what I wanted for you either. But we can only work with what we have, unfortunately."

"Are you okay with what O'Neill presented?"

"It would mean we would have to at least pay lip service to being discreet, which would suck, but other than that, I think I am."

"Are you sure?"

"I've felt a bit... out of place. You don't need a pilot, and Steve is in charge of security. I've never been the type who can sit around and do nothing. This would give me a job to do in my own right, that would still let us be together and work together. So, yeah, I'm good with it if you are."

Rodney sighed. "I'm honestly surprised O'Neill agreed to the ten million. I didn't think he would."

"I think they really need you, Rodney. And he was more interested in keeping you happy than in a particular salary figure. The government can afford it."

"I don't know if I'll want to stay once I get read into the complete program, but the only way for me to know is if I sign all their damn forms and have them tell me what the big secret is."

John chuckled. "Well, if I accept the commission, we're more or less stuck here, you know that, right? I can't say yes now, then walk away a year from now. The military doesn't really work like that."

"And I don't know if I can stay. And who knows if they'll require me to stay, too."

John sighed. "You realize if we leave, I don't know if Steve and I can keep you safe from Ba'al or others like him, right? We can defend against a lot of shit, but alien technology is a bit difficult to predict and plan for."

"I know and I can't go through that again. I can't." Rodney shuddered. "It's just a big step. Not only for me, but for you and for us."

"I know." John kissed him softly. "But is it really all that different from Mann? You'll still have your own research, and you'll just have access to a lot more cool shit on top of that. The only trade off is living here. Maybe we can have them put in a pool."

"Doubtful. It's not exactly secure."

"The whole area is secure. Maybe an indoor pool with a surf generator. I seriously miss surfing."

Rodney shook his head and chuckled softly. "I…I don't think I really have a choice and that's just…eating at my gut."

"I know." John kissed him again. "I wish there was something I could say to change it, but unfortunately, I don't think we really do have a choice here, not without seriously compromising your safety, which I'm not willing to do."

"So you'd…override my decision if I wanted to go back to Mann?"

"No, but I would try to first reason with you, then bribe you with sex, and finally glue myself to your side for pretty much the rest of your life if you decide to go that route."

Rodney hummed to himself. "So you're not going to glue yourself to my side for any other reason?"

"Well, you're stuck with me either way, but you might get irritated after a while at not being able to even take a piss by yourself."

That got Rodney to laugh out loud, shaking his head. "I think it all depends on if they try to screw me over even before they hire me. I need to see how this all works out."

"For what it's worth, I think O'Neill is really trying to be honest with us, and I don't think he's out to screw you."

"I'm just going to wait and see. You know how well I do if I listen to my gut."

"Your gut is fine, it's the second guessing that gets you into trouble."

"And the breasts."

John's eyes narrowed. "You don't get breasts anymore. You have a cock and two balls to play with."

"I was just giving it as an example," Rodney protested.

"A bad one." John reached between them to give Rodney's cock a light squeeze. "Do I need to fuck you through the mattress again to remind you who this belongs to?"

"Oh…god, John…"Rodney moaned, shifting to pull away, but John's hand turned into a vice. "Ow…come on."

John moved to kiss at the side of Rodney's neck, tonguing the mark he had put there. "You bring out the primal male in me, McKay. I don't know why I need to claim you, but you are so mine, and I will fuck you senseless until it sticks."

Rodney stopped pulling away and let himself be drawn back to John. "I've noticed and I wasn't trying to…impinge on your masculinity. I was just pointing out my somewhat lacking ability to make decision based on my gut."

John hummed, kissing at the mark a bit while he started to lightly stroke Rodney through his pants.

"John…O'Neill is waiting downstairs and this really isn't the time," Rodney protested even though he felt himself responding. "We just did this a few hours ago."

John hummed. "He can wait. I'm not going to fuck you here—yet. I just want you hard enough to remember who owns this gorgeous cock, who makes it stand up and take notice, who makes it weep with the need to come."

"This isn't discreet, John."

"I haven't accepted the commission yet, so we don't need to be."

"God…" Rodney groaned as John shifted them, backing Rodney up until his back hit the wall. John pressed into him, holding him. Rodney shuddered and moaned, letting the sensations take over. John could get him all hot and bothered in less than a minute.

John's lips moved to Rodney's, where he devoured Rodney's mouth in a seriously hot kiss.

Rodney hands grasped at John's shoulders, pulling him in, holding him close.

Slowly, John backed off the kiss, leaving Rodney panting for breath.

"Can't the two of you keep your hands off each other for longer than two minutes? Geez! I did not need to see that."

Johns chuckle was deep as he straightened, but stayed where he was propping Rodney up. "Just making a point, Sir."

"What? That you're worse than a horny teenager?"

"That he's taken." John pulled away slowly, giving Rodney time to take on his own weight, even if it did nothing for the now raging hard on.

"You are such a bastard," Rodney whispered, his fingers digging into John's arm.

"Of course he's taken. NO one will go near him with a hundred-foot pole, let alone a ten-foot one," O'Neill said from where he was standing at the entrance to the master bedroom. "Geez, Sheppard. I need to get my eyes washed out or something."

"Like you haven't been caught doing the same thing with Jackson. I've heard the stories, sir."

"Sheppard!" O'Neill's voice broke a little and he continued at a lower volume a few beats later. "That's none of your business and I said you have to be discreet!"

John grinned. "I'm not reinstated yet. Sir. So I can have as much public gay sex as I want for the moment."

"I'd recommend you refrain from that. The last thing I need is a hearing about inappropriate behavior the first week you're hired."

John's soft laugh made Rodney's dick twitch again. "If the Air Force ever decides to kick me out a second time, I might have to take him to Washington and fuck him in my dress blues in the middle of Congress, just to make a point."

Rodney groaned at the thought.

John glanced back and smirked while O'Neill made inarticulate noises.

Rodney banged his head against the wall. "Bastard," he hissed through his teeth.

John smirked again and sauntered out of the room.

Rodney stood against the wall, glaring across the room at O'Neill.

O'Neill was actually blushing. "I'll just wait for you outside. Take your time."

"As if I have a choice." Rodney paused, taking a deep breath to try to talk his cock down. "Why didn't you push to have me on the project sooner than this? Radek's been haunting me for years. So has Carter. Hell, you already employ my sister who hates my guts. Why did you let it get it get this bad?"

O'Neill sighed. "Because I knew I had fucked up with Carter. Both in sleeping with her, and in letting her get away with stealing your work. I might not have known it at the time, but there were some huge leaps that should have sent up red flags, but I chose to ignore it. So when you made it clear you weren't open to recruitment, despite the fact that the program could use you, I did what I could to run interference so you could have the normal life you wanted."

"Normal life? You call this a normal life?" He waved his hand around. "I'm going to live on a secret, classified military base because you can't get your shit together and take out one idiot!"

"To be fair, had I known you were going to go invent the very thing our people have been trying to do for years without any knowledge or access to any of their research, I would have pushed harder to recruit you earlier. But none of us anticipated you would go and independently find a way to do what half the galaxy has been trying for decades to come up with."

"I've been saying that I am the smartest man on the planet for years. Not like it's a secret. It's just a little…disturbing that it took one crazy for you to figure out I wasn't lying about it."

"He's not crazy, he's a psychotic deposed dictator trying to regain his power. It's a slim difference, I grant you, but it's there. And we never thought you were lying, we just assumed you wouldn't be able to leap ahead of the whole god damned galaxy without any access to advanced alien research!"

"Alien research." Rodney huffed and rolled his eyes. "Right."

O'Neill narrowed his eyes. "All right, McKay, we're going on a little field trip back to the base. There's someone I want you to meet."

Rodney pushed himself away from the wall and walked slowly across the floor to the door. His hard on was going down, but it wasn't exactly comfortable yet. He was so going to get back at John for this. "What? Do you have an animatronic little grey man or something? You know making crap like this up is not going to win you any favors with me."

"Just come back to the base with me and meet him. I give you my word he's not animatronic or fake."

"Right." Rodney rolled his eyes and carefully walked back down to the Jeep. John was leaning against the front bumper waiting for them. Rodney just narrowed his eyes at him and climbed into the back seat.

His lover grinned at him as he draped an arm over Rodney's shoulder. O'Neill climbed in and glanced at the driver. "Head back to Section N725."

"I hate you."

"No you don't." John grinned as they started bumping their way back over the desert. "In fact, you're probably fantasizing right now about what we're going to do as soon as we're alone again."

"No. Right now I'm trying to figure out where to put all the damn furniture in the house if—and only if—I decide to take this crazy job offer."

John grinned at him again, and for the next few minutes, they rode in silence. Finally, they pulled up to what looked like an outhouse in the middle of nowhere. O'Neill jumped down and headed over to it, glancing back. "Well, are you two coming?"

"And where are we going?" Rodney asked climbing out. The heat bouncing off the ground was starting to bake him. "We're not exactly going to all fit in the outhouse while you take a piss."

"Just trust me, McKay." O'Neill swiped an ID card through a slot, then input a long string of numbers. When the door opened, instead of a wooden outhouse, it looked like the inside of a high-tech elevator. O'Neill stepped inside and waved them in.

"If you're going to kill me, you don't have to drag me to a secret base, you know."

O'Neill huffed, and the elevator started to descend. Just before Rodney's claustrophobia kicked in, the back opened and they stepped out into what looked like a massive—empty—hangar filled with people.

"O'Neill. I am glad you have arrived. When Commander Thor gave me this assignment, I was assured your species had advanced to a point where you could understand the basics of interstellar travel. However, either my Commander has been grossly misled as to the ability of your kind, or you have chosen to provide only your least suitable individuals to work with me. Whichever is the case, I cannot even begin to create the ship you have asked for with the resources you are currently providing."

Rodney blinked. He closed his eyes and counted to ten and then opened them again. The naked grey alien was still standing there, a tablet computer in his hand. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Hermiod! Just the chap I'm here to see. This is Doctor McKay, who is, I have been assured, the smartest man on the planet. I'm currently trying to convince him to join our project, and I'm hoping you can help me show him the benefits."

"Colonel, are you kidding me? If this is even the real thing, do I have to point out that it's naked?"

"Ixnay on the akedna. He's sensitive about it."

The grey alien narrowed its... very large eyes. "If your smartest man cannot even accept empirical evidence of existence, then I fail to see how he could aid me in integrating Asgard technology into the interstellar craft you are attempting to build. I question if you are even capable of creating a space-worthy craft at all."

"How can an advanced species—even if you are that, that's not determined yet by any stretch of the imagination—think that walking around naked is a good thing?"

"My race has evolved beyond the need for such trivial concerns as physical appearance. This is, in fact, the fifth body I have occupied in my lifetime, as we choose to clone an advanced form to occupy opposed to... spawning the way your primitive kind chooses to reproduce."

Rodney leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "You're a clone? No wonder you have no sense of humor."

O'Neill jumped in. "Hermiod, I was wondering if we could take a quick hop up to your ship, so McKay here can see the possibilities. He's new to the program, so he hasn't had the benefit of long-term exposure to any sort of... non-Earth technology."

"A quick hop." Rodney turned and blinked at O'Neill. "As if this so-called ship actually exists. Just what are you trying to pull here, O'Neill?"

"If you wish." Hermiod poked at his tablet, and suddenly there was a beam of light, and then... Rodney was looking out a window at Earth. From space. Beside him, John sucked in a breath.

O'Neill grinned. "This is an Asgard research ship. Hermiod commands it, and is helping us design, and then later build, a ship capable of intergalactic travel. The beaming technology you just experienced is one of the few pieces of their technology they're willing to part with, but in my mind, it's one of the best."

Rodney took a few steps forward toward the window. "Are we're in geosynchronous orbit above Area 51?"

"Yes. We are also cloaked so your people's satellites cannot see us." Hermiod actually sounded smug.

Rodney turned. "And you have artificial gravity. How are you creating the field and where is your power source? Can I see it?"

"No. Our advanced power is one of the technologies Commander Thor has decided not to provide. We do not artificially advance any inferior species—that I am here at all and providing you with anything is because the Commander owes O'Neill several favors."

"So I shouldn't talk about how to access energy from alternative realities, then?" Rodney said throwing the challenge back at the freaky alien. He was going to have alien abduction nightmares for weeks because of this.

Hermiod blinked. "Ah. You are the human I have heard about who stumbled upon zero-point technology then? Interesting. Perhaps your species is not as hopeless as I first believed."

"I didn't stumble across anything. It was a logical progression of my work." Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and scowled down at Hermiod.

"You are an infant, but even the young can learn if they are willing and have an open mind. However, if you persist in your belief that I am not real, then it will be difficult to advance your knowledge in any meaningful way."

"I'm a scientist. I look for proof, not something pretty that happens to be in front of me. Show me your power source and let me look at the equations."

"I will not show you my power source, but I will allow you to view some of my equations, as it will be necessary in the design of your ship." Hermiod looked at O'Neill. "Is this also the one the Goa'uld Ba'al is seeking? Would you like me to tag him for future retrieval should it become necessary?"

Rodney took a step back. "I'm not a zoo animal." Rodney narrowed his eyes. "The next thing he'll tell me is that my genes are screwed up and he'll fix them, too—for a price."

"I could fix them if you desire, but that is not what I am discussing now. It is a frequency chip that would live underneath your skin allowing my instruments to determine your exact location and lock on to beam you on board my ship should Ba'al ever attempt to retrieve you again. It is not in the Asgard's interest to allow the Goa'uld any kind of advanced technology no matter what the form."

"Wait a minute. You can tell there's something wrong with my genes? What? I'm I going to die at an early age? I have some kind of terminal disease? I have so much I still want to do and I wants several more Nobel Prizes."

"McKay. Focus." O'Neill rolled his eyes. "If McKay agrees to it, it might not be a bad idea to use some kind of sensor. In fact, it's something I'd like to explore with you for all our people. If we can use it with our equipment as well, it would make search and rescue a hell of a lot easier."

"I am focused. My health is very important to me." He moved closer. "So what can you tell? What do you see?"

"I am not a computer, Doctor McKay. However, if you wish to have me scan you and give you a report, I can do that."

"I don't want a report. I just want you to fix it."

Hermiod huffed and poked at his tablet. A moment later, a light engulfed Rodney then disappeared. "It appears you have several conditions that can be corrected. If you wish to proceed, we will need to go into my laboratory."

Rodney looked at John and then O'Neill before turning back to the alien. "I want to know what you're fixing before you do it."

"I thought you did not wish to see a report."

"Stop with the double-talk! You're worse than a Politian."

Hermiod stared at him. "You will need to make up your mind what you desire. If you wish to see a report, I will put it up on the screen." A few more taps to his tablet and one of the walls was suddenly filled with information.

Rodney walked over to it, skimming the information which was thankfully in English. "You can fix my blood pressure? And my hypoglycemia?" He squinted at a few lines. "What's with this…early aging thing? You can slow down how quickly I age? And what about this recessive gene thing?"

"Genetics are simple to correct if the changes are not large."

Rodney waved his hand. "You can talk to Carson about genetics. What's the recessive gene for? And can you do anything for endurance…you know…" He wiggled his eyebrows a little.

Hermiod gave him a blank stare.

Rodney blushed a little and leaned into the little alien. "I might not be a teenager anymore, but I'd sure like to have the reaction time of one again."

"Ah. You are speaking of your race's procreation features, correct?"

"Well, I'm not looking to procreate, but yes…that."

"I cannot change physical characteristics, but I can reverse the aging process to a small degree."

"And you still haven't answered me about the recessive gene."

Hermoid actually seemed to hedge a bit. "It is a gene both O'Neill and this other one with you have fully active already. It would be beneficial for you to have it active as well in the future, given the direction your race is proceeding in."

"John has it?"

"Is that his name?" Hermiod looked over at John. "Yes, his is actually slightly stronger than O'Neill's which we didn't believe your race was capable of producing. And now to find it recessive in you as well is... encouraging."

"Is there anything you can fix with him, too?" Rodney asked, pointing to John. "He's also a valuable asset to the program."

"If you wish me to do a full scan, I can proceed. My sensors only picked up the one specific gene sequence because after we met O'Neill, I have them programmed to automatically check humans for it. I was curious to see if he was an anomaly."

"Check him out. Scan him," Rodney said, getting a squawk of protest out of John. "What?" he asked turning, "It's not like it hurts."

"What if he finds something terminal or something? I'd rather not know I'm dying."

"We make him fix it."

"I don't..." Before he could finish, the flash of light engulfed him and a second set of results appeared next to Rodney's.

There was next to nothing wrong with John. It was disgusting how healthy he was.

"I do not see anything immediate that would require changing. You are an almost perfect specimen, and with your gene. Hmm, very interesting. I shall be curious to follow your progress as your race makes future discoveries."

"How about you do the de-aging thing to him, too, and we can get that taken care of now?"

"If you wish to reverse the aging process by several years to your internal genetic structure, I can accomplish that, yes."

"Yes, that," Rodney said snapping his fingers. "Let's get this done." He paused. "It's not going to hurt, is it?"

"No, it will not. It appears you also have reactions to several substances that could result in fatality. Would you also like those genetics removed from your sequence?"

"Wait. You can take care of my allergies?"

"It is the function of a genetic disposition to reject certain substances. They are hold-overs in the human genetic sequence, so erasing them will cause no additional complications."

"Oh god, yes. Remove them," Rodney immediately agreed, ignoring the growing look of shock and confusion and surprise on O'Neill's face.

"As you wish. If you will follow me." Hermoid walked through a doorway into a second room with what looked like a high-tech bed in the middle. "If you will lie down there, I will begin. It will not take long."

Rodney immediately moved to the bed, jumping up on it. He caught the look on O'Neill's face. "Don't give me that look just because you didn't think to ask for improvements."

"I didn't ask to bring you up here to have you do this, McKay. I just wanted to give you the proof you needed to see I wasn't lying about what our program is actually doing."

"Yes, well. I guess this will be the ultimate test. Don't you think?" He smirked at O'Neill as he laid down, his hands resting on his stomach. "Like this?"

"That is fine." There was another flash of light, this one lasting a bit longer, and Rodney felt like his body was tingling, but it didn't hurt. After a minute or so, it disappeared.

He glanced over at the naked alien. "So?"

"It is done. I have sent the results to the monitor where you can view them alongside your former results."

Rodney scrambled from the table. He didn't feel any different, but if it worked, that would be sweet. "You're up next," he told John, gesturing to the bed.

"I'm not sure I like the idea of having my genes messed with."

"Get on the table."

"Can we at least see your results before I do it?"

"No. Get on the table."

John glanced at O'Neill, but Rodney didn't give him a chance to find a reason to object. He went over and shoved John onto the table.

Rodney glared at John when he went to move off the table and a few seconds later there was a flash of light and then the alien was humming to itself. "See. All done."

"That was weird."

"So, where are the engines on this thing?" Rodney asked as they moved back to the area he was calling the bridge. "Can I look at them?"

"That is another area that is off-limits, I am afraid. However, you will see some of those equations as well in the process of creating your space-worthy craft."

"Why can't I see it? If I can understand the equations it's only fair I see the actual physical engine."

"Our technology is too far advanced for your current levels."

Rodney snorted. "Maybe for some of the other people you've dealt with before. Not me."

"We shall see. If I determine in our association that your understanding is progressed far enough not to make showing you the physical engines and power sources a hazard to your planet's development, I will reconsider."

"Come on. Show me the equations."

"Do you wish to see the results of the changes first?"

"I can look at both."

"The equations are down in the lab on Earth. Once we have finished here, I will return us there where we can begin work."

Rodney huffed. "Why are they down there? Don't you have a copy up here on your tablet?"

"That is where I have set up the working models for use in the ship we are assisting you in the design of."

"I don't want to see those equations. I want to see the equations for your ship's engines. If I can understand them, I should be able to see them." Rodney made gimmie-gimmie hands at the tablet in the alien's hands.

Hermiod hugged the tablet to his chest. "I will not give you free access to my ship, Doctor McKay."

"What are the chances I actually understand it? Come on. Hell, you can probably zap the information from my brain if you wanted to. Hand it over."

"I am not giving you the controls to my ship."

"I want to see the equations. I don't care about the controls to your ship."

"My datapad does both, so I am not going to hand it over."

"Lock down the ship controls. What, you don't trust me? You actually think I could figure out your ultra secret mathematical equations? You're what…thousands of years ahead of us. What are you afraid of?"

"I am not afraid, but I am not handing over my ship to you. I will beam us back down to the Earth laboratory where I can give you access there."

"No. I don't want access to data you've cleaned."

"That is all I am going to give you for now. Perhaps in time I will allow you access to additional information."

Rodney shrugged. "Sucks for you that I won't join the program without a look at those equations, doesn't it?" Rodney smirked at the yelp of shock from O'Neill.

Hermiod shrugged. "Whether you do or don't is no concern of mine."

"Might change your arrangement with the SGC, though."

"The Asgard aid your planet because Commander Thor has developed a fondness for O'Neill. I am here because he has assigned me this task. If I am assigned elsewhere, it will not affect me overmuch. Your planet is the one who is behind and asking for a favor, Doctor McKay, not mine."

"And yet they just brought on a renowned geneticist. Was that to work on a cloning issue?"

"We do not require your race's help on our genetic projects, Doctor McKay. If your people bought on a geneticist, it is for your own purposes, not ours."

"Right."

The little alien shrugged. "It is your decision, and your planet you hurt if you decide not to use the gifts you have been given."

"I can't believe how scared you that I might know more than you." Rodney shook his head. "And here I thought scientists had open minds about scientific advancement. Apparently the only ways you can advance is by abducting innocent humans who are more advanced that you care to admit because it will take you down a peg." Rodney turned to O'Neill. "I've seen enough. I'll sign the NDAs, but don't expect me to work with you. I can't work hamstrung like this."

O'Neill was pinching his nose. "So you're telling me you won't accept the job because Hermiod won't give you his equations."

"Yep."

"You realize there is nothing I can do to force the Asgard to give you anything. Our treaty with them explicitly agrees that we won't attempt to access in any way any technology or information they have deemed inappropriate to share with us."

"Then whoever made up your treaty is stupider than I thought possible. I need real data. Anything I develop based on half-data is going to be wrong and will end up blowing up in our faces. And right now I'm simply asking to look at—not copy, not transfer—the equations related to a working spaceship. If I can't understand them, fine. If I can, I get to see it."

"That's not the agreement we have with them." O'Neill sighed. "So you're willing to walk away when you know now, for a fact, that we're not alone and that aliens—like Ba'al—are out there terrorizing the galaxy. You'd walk away from the chance to learn and push yourself beyond what even you think is possible because you can't see one set of equations right now when you want them—even though Hermiod already said he might give you access later if he feels you can handle them."

"No one has the right to tell me what I can or cannot handle," Rodney said harshly, narrowing his eyes at O'Neill. "Not you. Not some alien, either. And yes, I'd walk away because this would just be the first in a long line of excuses and roadblocks to vital research."

"The Asgard don't give a rats ass about your research, McKay." O'Neill sighed again. "You realize this smacks of a two-year-old throwing a temper tantrum because he can't have the cookie he wants, right?"

Rodney shrugged. "If you want me bad enough, you'll make this happen. Besides, how many rules did you break bringing me here in the first place—without having me sign an NDA?"

"Breaking a few rules and invalidating our strongest and most secure alliance with an alien race are on two completely different levels." O'Neill glanced at Hermiod. "If you want to beam us back down, I'll get out of your hair. I'll let you know if Doctor McKay's decision changes."

"Then you're the one setting the human race back thousands of years. Hmm. Maybe I will move back home, too."

"Your choice, McKay." The beam suddenly engulfed them, and they were standing back in the hangar from earlier. John was at his side and Hermoid stood alongside the Colonel. O'Neill glanced at him. "But if you do make that decision and Ba'al grabs you again, don't be surprised if our men are there to eliminate the threat and not perform search and rescue. I'm willing to work with you to a point, McKay, but I'm not going to stand around and allow you to fuck up alliances we need or give our enemies vital intelligence because you're throwing a fit over not getting your way. If you become more of a threat than an asset, I will be forced to treat you as such."

"It's good to know that you'd just let them kill me. Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside," he said with a humorless smile as he moved toward the elevator. "Oh and thanks for the fix, Hermoid. I'd be interested in what Carson has to say about it."

"My loyalties are to this planet and its people, not to catering to the childish whims of one individual. You might be smart, but you're not irreplaceable, McKay."

"Right. That's why you went to such lengths to ensure I would work with you. You know my last condition. Make it happen and I'll work for you. I'd like to go back to my wing now," he said, standing outside the elevator door.

"I'm willing to concede to a point McKay. But not on this. The alliance with the Asgard is too important to fuck up because you're having a power trip. You know the deal, You can take it or leave it. At this point, I'm tired of playing games with you."

"Fine. I'd like to go back to my wing," Rodney said, gesturing to the elevator doors.

O'Neill gestured, and a Marine appeared at the elevator. "Take Doctor McKay and Mister Sheppard back to the secure wing."

The Marine looked like he had swallowed a sour pill if the expression on his face was any indication, but he swiped his card and the doors opened. "I'll be waiting for your final say, Colonel," he said as he stepped inside.

O'Neill nodded and John stepped inside the elevator.

Rodney was silent on the side up to the surface and all the way back to the facility they were staying in.

The Marine escorted them to the door without a word, slamming the door shut behind them. John hadn't said anything else either, and he walked toward the kitchen, not looking back.

"What?"

His lover stopped and glanced back. "I'm not sure what to think right now. You just got indisputable proof that there are aliens, and that people are desperately in need of someone like you to give them advances that could save lives. But you're throwing it away because you can't see a set of equations that the aliens aren't comfortable sharing yet. As a former soldier, I'm not sure how I feel about you leaving people out there to die to prove a point."

"It's the principle of the matter. If we're going to cooperate, we need full cooperation. If they're not going to share this one thing—a glance at a set of equations—what else aren't they showing us? What else are they holding back because they deem us unworthy? How many humans are they willing to throw away? Tell me that."

"It's not the principal of the matter. It's life or death for the soldiers who could use something like a spaceship to get them out of situations, or provide the cover that would keep them alive. There's a lot they're not telling us, I'm sure. They're a lot more advanced than we are, but it's their technology. You won't let anyone even glance at your own research because you're so afraid of having it stolen. You won't even plug your computers into the network here for fear someone might look at your work. And now you're pulling this because the Asgard are doing the same thing, and you're willing to walk away and damn men and women in the field just to prove your point."

"And if the spaceship blows up because the Asgard didn't deem us worthy enough to tell us about a certain safeguard, what then?"

"It's called trust, Rodney. O'Neill and the people who made the treaty trust them not to hold that type of information back. But you spent the better part of the morning putting restrictions on who is and isn't allowed to view your personal research, how it can be used, and who can even access to look at it. The fact that you're throwing a fit because someone else is doing the same thing is just…I don't know. There's deserved arrogance because you know you're intelligent and you're not willing to pretend otherwise. That I actually find refreshing, because you make no apologies for who and what you are. But to pull this kind of stunt when someone else does the same thing to you... I need some time to think. I'll be in my office if anyone needs me."

"Fine," Rodney said, throwing his hands up in the air, his temper bubbling just beneath the surface. He was angry at O'Neill, angry at being so close to something amazing and not getting his hands on it, angry at being told no, and angry that someone called him out. He wasn't willing to concede on this. Not yet. "Do whatever the hell you want. You want to join up, be my guest. Oh…and you're welcome by the way. I’m glad you're going to enjoy your longer, healthier life."

John didn't respond, just went into the room he had claimed as his office and quietly closed the door.

Rodney slammed around the kitchen for a while before retreating to his own office. Nathalie took one look at his face and immediately turned away, not uttering a word as he passed, slamming the door behind him.

The first thing he did was check the protection on his network before opening one of his projects—one for the UK government. He had been working on a sustainable power initiative with them for a few months now, something very similar to the project he had proposed to the US government.

He let himself get lost in the data, in the equations. It was orderly and predictable.

At some point, someone put something to eat beside his elbow, but they didn't say anything, and he didn't notice until they were already gone.

He ate the food automatically, his fingers walking across the empty plate. He looked up in surprise, not even sure what he had finished eating in the first place. He shook it off and went back to his work.

When he finally pulled himself away from the equations, he realized it was incredibly late. This was the first time John hadn't come to tear him away from the lab since they had started sleeping together.

For the first time in years he hesitated in going to his own bed. There was a couch in the lab. He could sleep here. He shouldn't have to, but the last thing he wanted to do was fight with John again.

With a sigh, he slid off his chair and stumbled over to the couch. He pulled off his shoes and tucked himself into the couch, adjusting the pillow under his head. It wasn't horrible and he'd probably be crippled in the morning, but for a few hours it would work.

He slept restlessly through the small hours of the night, finally dragging himself off the couch when the clock hit six. He brewed a strong pot of coffee and got back to work, moving slowly through the UK project, but making more headway than he had in the last few weeks.

"Hey. You didn't make it to bed last night either, huh?"

Rodney glanced up briefly at John before going back to his computer. "Couch worked fine."

"Oh. I just fell asleep at my desk by accident. I'll just leave then."

"Up to you," he said shortly. Normally if he got mad at a lover he would just send him home, but he didn't have that option with John and it threw him off.

He heard a soft sigh. "Come find me when you're ready to stop being pissed off at the world."

"That's my normal setting. You should know that by now. And you were the one who stormed off."

"This is different and I didn't storm off. I'm not angry, Rodney. Disappointed, yes, but not angry."

"How is it different?" Rodney asked, finally looking up at John. There were dark circles under his eyes and it made his heart lurch. He pushed the feeling down.

"Because you're not usually really angry. Irritated maybe when people can't keep up with you, but not really angry. But now you're pissed off at O'Neill, and me apparently, and Hermiod for not immediately bowing down to you. It's just... I don't know. I expected more from you, I guess. I expected you to understand the need for them to keep some of their tech private since you're so secretive with your own."

"Well, this is what you get," Rodney said, spreading his arms wide. "I'm arrogant, bad with people, and most of all an asshole. Things are supposed to be different for me because of who I am and yes, I expect O'Neill to meet my demands. Maybe I’m just tired of the secrets and the cloak and dagger routine and maybe I'm just ready to say screw it all and take my toys and go home."

"Maybe." John shrugged. "Let me know what you decide."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you signing up?"

"I haven't decided yet, mostly because I'm waiting for you. But I am leaning toward joining, yes. I have abilities they can use, and I'm not sure I can walk away from that when I have a chance to do some good. But I'm not ready to walk away from you, either. So, I honestly don't know."

Rodney nodded. "I don't know what to tell you, John. I don't. This wasn't the first and it won't be the last temper tantrum I'll throw. I have to protect myself. No one else will do it for me."

"That's where you're wrong, Rodney. You have people who will do a lot to protect you. You just don't, or won't see it. Getting angry I can understand. Being frustrated I can understand. But demanding we violate an intergalactic treaty to get your own way, that's where I'm having a hard time following you. It's one thing to try, and I can't blame you for that, but at some point, you have to know when to fight and when to walk away."

"In your opinion."

"Yes." John shrugged. "But I had to learn that the hard way, and I've lost relationships with my family in the process because I was more determined to be right than anything else."

"I don't exactly engender friendships, John. I know what happens when you take a stand and have an opinion and demand something that's not the norm. I know exactly what it means." Rodney sighed. "The ball's in O'Neill's court. He knows what I want."

"You say that, but you do have friends, if you look. There's me, Carson, Steve and Danny, Nathalie. None of us are bothered by you knowing what you're worth and not being afraid to ask for it. But there's a difference in asking for things you can have, and demanding things you can't just to prove a point."

"Carson…Carson is doing his own thing. And I pay Steve, Danny, and Nathalie for what they do. Hell, I still pay you."

John shook his head. "You can think what you want. I've said my piece, and you can take it or leave it. O'Neill made it clear he won't budge on this, so if you're going to stick with your demand, then we'll need to start trying to figure out a way to keep you protected on Mann. Let me know what you decide."

"No, then I'll have to figure it out since you're going to join up with O'Neill. You've made that clear enough." Rodney sighed quietly. "I'm waiting on O'Neill right now."

"I've already said I don't know what I'm going to do, Rodney. Stop trying to act like decisions have been made and you're on the short end of the stick. Just because I don't agree with you doesn't mean I'm walking away. And O'Neill already said he's not budging, and if you're going to stick to this, then we have a week to vacate the premises. So I'll talk to Steve about making the arrangements."

"A week? Where did that happen? And O'Neill still has to present his final proposal. I haven't seen that yet."

"He called over earlier, and he said he's fed up with playing games, and that you know the deal and can take it or leave it. And if you choose to leave it, we need to be gone so we're not wasting any more resources he can, in his words, put toward recruiting people who won't be a huge pain in his ass, end quote."

"He never finalized the so called deal, no matter what he says. There were a number of items we went over in the meeting I've yet to see in writing. I'm not going anywhere until I see a final proposal. You can tell him that."

"I'll let him know."

"Fine."

John shook his head, pausing just before he closed the door behind him. "You really need to stop thinking that just because someone disagrees with you, or makes a decision you don't agree with, that automatically means they don't like you, or don't want to be with you anymore. All it means is that they have a different opinion." He closed the door before Rodney had a chance to respond.

Rodney grumbled to himself and got back to work. He had things to do.

 

***

 

John sighed and fiddled with his pencil. He had already beaten the solitaire game on the laptop in front of him 27 times, so it had lost some of its appeal. 

 

And John couldn’t even blame him, because he didn’t disagree that his lover was acting like a spoiled child. He didn’t really understand where this was coming from, since, despite Rodney’s claims otherwise, this wasn’t his usual behavior.

Carson had reassured him after a visit the day before that this was partially post-traumatic stress from everything and it would run its course in time, but John just hoped there was still something to salvage out of the situation by the time Rodney decided to stop acting like a complete asshole. 

John was actually surprised the doctor was still so upbeat about the whole situation since Rodney had more or less thrown him out of his lab. Rodney had also managed to create a whole new level of art to his avoidance of John, showering and eating when the other man was running or working out or doing something else.

Rodney hadn't even been back to their bed in days.

John put his head down on his desk. God, he was just so fucking tired. The last few months, the revelations, the kidnappings, the drama... he wasn't sure how much more he could handle, honestly. He could feel the nervous breakdown hovering at the edge of his awareness.

There was a knock on the door to his office.

He sat up and tried to get his head to a place that didn't look like he was as wrecked as he was, although he wasn't sure how well he succeeded. "Come in."

The door creaked open and O'Neill popped his head in, looking around. "It safe in here?"

"As safe as it can be. Come on in."

O'Neill entered and closed the door behind him before dropping into the guest chair. He tossed a small USB drive on the desk. "That's McKay's contract. Since I value my nuts, you get it."

"Gee, thanks. He's not happy with me either, you know."

"He's less lightly to take yours off. From all the evidence, he likes that part about you."

John made a face. "Lately, I'm not so sure. I honestly don't know what's driving this, sir. If I had to guess, he's had a lot of stuff happening to him lately, and this is some attempt to feel like he has some control over it all."

"That’s what Daniel claims, too. Carter just thinks he's an asshole, but she's probably biased. I'm fed up and need his answer one way or another."

"I understand. I'll walk it over to him when you leave, and let him know you need his decision by the end of the day."

"I don't want to kick him out—I know what Ba'al can do to someone and that's the last thing I want for him—but we need to move forward. General Hammond wants an answer ASAP and I intend to give it to him."

"I know." John ran a hand though his hair. "I'll give you my answer along with his."

"Are you that tied to him?" O'Neill asked, crossed his legs.

"I... love him, sir. And I know that if he decides to walk away and I stay, that would be the end of us. It's a decision I don't really want to have to make, so I've been putting it off."

"He's an idiot if he says no to this."

"I know."

"If we had been dealing with Thor and not Hermoid, he probably would have gotten what he wanted out of the Asgard, but I will not be the one to screw up that arrangement. Thor thinks we're funny. I think Hermoid was still pissed about the naked comments and the references to cloning issues. How McKay knew that…" O'Neill shook his head. "It was either a wild guess or he really is smarter than he looks."

"A little of both, I think." John sighed. "And I don't think he's used to being told no. He usually gets what he wants."

O'Neill snorted. "That much is obvious. So, what will it take for him to sign that?"

John shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think not having you cave in to his demands the last few days has made him realize you won't. I don't know if it will push him to being more stubborn or less."

"What has he said?"

"To me, not much. He's avoided me completely for the last few days."

"Avoided you? This place isn't exactly spacious."

"I haven't made it hard for him. I've been more or less living in here."

O'Neill sighed. "Can't you just…" he waved his hand at John, "fuck him and then make him sign it afterward?"

John choked. "What happened to reminding me to be discreet?"

"I'm not asking to watch and it would be in your bedroom. I'm just saying that's always a way to a man's heart."

"I'm pretty sure that would kill the post-sex buzz."

O'Neill shrugged. "It was worth a try."

"I haven't had sex in a good week, so yeah, no."

O'Neill's eyes widened. "Oh. You mean since the…ah."

"Yeah. We haven't even slept in the same bed since that whole incident."

"So much for youthful stamina." O'Neill smirked at him.

John glared at him. "I still can't believe he did that."

O'Neill laughed. "I thought I had balls, but McKay…" He shook his head. "If I had the balls to ask, I would have done it a long time ago. I'm not exactly young and I have a lot of years on Daniel."

"Well, Hermiod can do it, so why not?"

"He's been spitting mad since McKay left. I'm not going anywhere near him. I'm liable to end up a woman."

John shook his head and laugh. "Only Rodney could manage to piss off that many people in that short a period of time, and still get his and my genes improved."

"Yeah. By the way, I want you to come and touch a few things in one of the labs. I want to see if Hermoid was right about your gene."

"Touch a few things? That sounds a little dirty, Sir."

"Alien tech. You'll understand when I get you over there. So. McKay's contract?"

"I'll bring it with me when I come to the lab then, and have your answers one way or the other."

"Fair enough," O'Neill said rising to his feet. "Call me on the cell if he has questions but don't make me talk to him."

John stood as well, grabbing the USB stick. "Hopefully it won't take long. I'll head to the lab by the end of the day, and let the guards outside know when I'm coming."

O'Neill nodded and headed off, carefully making sure Rodney was not in sight before turning a corner.

Shaking his head, John took a deep breath himself and headed for Rodney's private lab, where he had been hiding the last few days.

Nathalie smiled at him—the expression a little brittle—as he walked up. "Afternoon, sir. Are you sure you want to go in there?"

"Yeah. I have the contract from O'Neill. With luck, this will be the end of the stand-off, one way or the other."

"I just…" She sighed. "Can you just fuck him until he stops yelling at everything?"

"Why does everyone keep telling me to fuck him to fix the problem?" John rolled his eyes.

"Because it can calm a savage beast."

He shook his head and opened the door, slipping inside. "Rodney?"

The Canadian wasn't at his computer where John expected him to be. After a quick glance around the room he spotted him asleep on the couch—looking miserable and uncomfortable. No wonder he was such a shitty mood—but it was his own fault.

Sighing, John walked over and gently shook him awake. "Hey. Why are you sleeping here? That can't be comfortable."

Rodney snorted awake and then groaned as he shifted. "Better than the floor," he grumbled, slowly shoving himself to an upright position.

"Or, you know, you could come to the very comfortable bed we've got right across the hall."

Rodney ignored his comment. "Did you want something or do you just enjoy waking me up?"

John sighed again. It felt like he was doing that a lot lately. "I have O'Neill's final offer, and he said he needs to know your answer by the end of the day."

Rodney took the USB drive from John and looked at it for a long moment. "Okay. Fine. It's about time he brought this. Why are you bringing it to me?" He swung his feet to the floor and pushed himself upright, walking unsteadily to his closest laptop.

"Because he'd rather see you take my balls off than his."

Rodney's head snapped up. "Why would I do that? I like your balls."

"That's what he said."

"Well, he's right about that one thing," he said, as he obviously started skimming through the document.

"So does that mean I can contemplate getting laid again any time in the next century?"

"I’m not stopping you," Rodney said absently, his eyebrows drawn close as he read the contract. John wasn't even sure Rodney was listening to him.

"Yes you are, by, you know, sleeping on the couch and biting my head off every time I come in here."

"I’m surprised O'Neill remembered everything," Rodney said instead of commenting. "But I don't like this one clause. I want to add an early-exit clause to this contract and also that I have the right to terminate the agreement before the end of the two-year contract."

John pulled out his phone and dialed O'Neill's cell. He was talking as soon as the Colonel picked up. "Rodney wants an early-exit clause and the right to end the arrangement before the two-years is up if necessary."

"Early exit clause? Why the hell is he thinking about leaving the program before he even signed the damn contract in the first place?"

John looked at Rodney. "He wants to know why you want an early exit clause."

"If I don't like what's going on, I want to be able to leave."

John relayed that to O'Neill, wondering how he got put in the middle of this.

O'Neill sighed. "Yes, fine. Have him print out the damn contract and write it in the margin, but that's the only thing. Nothing else gets changed."

"He says to print it out and write it in the margin, but nothing else."

"But what if I find something else?" Rodney asked, looking up at John with a put-on innocent expression.

"Let's hope you don't."

"But what if I do?" Rodney asked, even as John heard O'Neill yelling in his ear. "Tell him that's it. Take it or leave it or so help me god I will hand him over to Ba'al myself."

John held the phone away from his ear and winced. "I don't think that's an option, Rodney."

"But—"

"No, Rodney. O'Neill has made all the concessions he's willing to make. It's a take it or leave it situation now."

Rodney closed his mouth and glowered, but hit a few keys and the printer in the corner fired up. He pulled out a pen and walked over, waiting as the pages spilled out. When they were finished, he picked them up and started initialing each page until the last one where he started writing. John walked over, reading the addition as Rodney wrote it.

John backed off as soon as Rodney signed the final page, handing the pile to John. "There. I’m tired of fighting and I just want this done."

"O'Neill? It's signed. I'm headed to the lab now."

"Good. He's expected to start tomorrow at nine. Make sure he's in the lab." O'Neill hung up before John could reply.

John raised an eyebrow. "O'Neill says welcome to the program, and you start tomorrow at 9am."

Rodney snorted. "Fine. I'm sure there will be a strapping Marine to take me to wherever I'm supposed to go in the morning."

"Probably." John smiled at him a little hesitantly. "I'm going to accept the commission, then. Are you okay with that?"

Rodney shrugged, the expression more tired than angry. "I don't know how long I'll stay with the program. I honestly don't know, but I'm going to give it a try."

"That's all anyone can ask." John stepped forward and carefully pulled Rodney into his arms. "I've missed you."

"I'm still not happy about the situation," Rodney said to John's chest. Thankfully he didn't try to pull away.

"I know. But we can make the best out of it and move forward, right? If you keep fighting it, it's only going to keep making it hard."

"I still think they're shortsighted and that the so-called treaty was a stupid move. I don't think this conversation is over by a long shot. I just need more information."

"I know. But you can't make changes by fighting them every step of the way. If you show that you're willing to give on a few things that aren't as important, you'll have a lot more leverage when you do go to battle for the big things."

"We'll see, I guess." Rodney sighed and wrapped his arms around John. "I'm tired."

"Me, too." John pressed his lips into the top of Rodney's head. "Why don't you walk down to the lab with me to give this to O'Neill? He said he has some kind of alien gadget he wants me to touch, and you can see the labs. Then we'll come back here and just…be together for a little while."

"Are you sure I won't be killed on sight as soon as I step outside the wing?" Rodney asked even as John moved them toward the door. "I know I'm not on anyone's favorite person's list."

"Well, showing them you're not going to bite their heads off and you're over the temper will go a long way toward soothing the ruffled feathers."

"I'm just going to start ruffling more feathers tomorrow. I have the right to do a complete review of personnel."

"Of the science people, yes. But this is more about showing the soldiers you're not the enemy."

Rodney snorted, but let John led him out of their wing. "If I'm not their enemy now, I will be in a little while. If they have half a brain they can be expected to work for me."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

John led the way through the maze of corridors, impressed that he didn't get them lost in the process.

He found the lab where O'Neill had said to meet, and popped his head in the door. "Sir?"

"That was quick," O'Neill said, straightening up as John pushed the door open. His face soured when he caught sight of Rodney. "You couldn't wait until I left to do the tour?"

"He's trying to show he's over being a bastard, sir." John squeezed Rodney's hand.

Rodney took it for the warning that it was and kept his mouth shut even though John knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he wanted to say something snide.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," O'Neill said. "You have the paperwork?"

John handed it over. "Both Rodney's signed contract as well as my official acceptance of the re-commission to Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force."

O'Neill nodded, flipping through the pages, pausing to read the addition on Rodney's contract. John could see his jaw tighten a bit, but he didn't argue about it. "It looks to be in order. Doctor Zelenka is around somewhere. You might want to start with him."

John gave Rodney's hand another squeeze before his lover wandered off, probably to argue with Zelenka. That seemed to be at the core of their working relationship.

O'Neill waited until Rodney was out of earshot to continue. "We'll probably need to put you though a few training programs before everything will be completely official."

"That's fine. I figured you would want to do a full physical as well as some testing to determine what I've retained. I also figured you would be giving me a crash course on more about what this program is about."

"Yes…all of the above. You're going to need to come to Colorado Springs for most of it."

John made a face, but nodded. He had figured as much. "You also said you wanted me to touch something down here?"

"Oh right, yes," O'Neill said with a start. "Come on." He started to lead the way through a few labs. "Daniel keeps shipping a lot of the Ancient artifacts to Area 51 to have the scientists look over them so we have a stockpile here. In many cases Daniel has no clue what they are—even though he refuses to admit that. He claims he can't translate the writing."

"Ancient artifacts? What does old stuff have to do with anything, Sir?"

"Oh, right," O'Neill said, glancing over at John. "Ancient in this case doesn't mean old and dusty. We refer to the previous iteration of humans as Ancients. They're the ones who built a lot of the technology still in use in the galaxy today. The Goa'uld have just bastardized most of it for their own use. Some of if, though, is still keyed to only work with Ancients—or their descendants."

"The previous..." John blinked a few times. This was going to take some work to wrap his head around. "Is that the gene Hermiod was talking about then? Some kind of leftover marker that says I'm descended from some old civilization?"

"Exactly," O'Neill said with a smile. "Exactly that. Okay, here we are," he said as they stepped into a lab cluttered with dusty and dirty crap. Sheppard took one breath and sneezed. "Yeah, we need to get them to clean up a bit, but here, let's try this one."

O'Neill handed him a round metal ball that was a lot heavier than it looked.

As soon as John touched it, his head was suddenly filled with a very faint hum. He also suddenly knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what this thing did. "It was used for geological surveillance, to take readings of soil type, air quality, those kinds of things," he said absently.

"It does? How?"

"It was sent through the Stargates in orbit to gather data as it traveled down to the planet, then after a certain period of time, that Stargate was dialed again, and the data was transmitted back through." John answered, still absently, as his attention was drawn to another piece on the table. It seemed to be calling to him, so he picked it up.

"What are you doing? That one is broken."

John ignored him, following the directions the hum seemed to be giving him. He turned the piece over and pressed a small, invisible indentation, which opened up a panel. He reached in and pulled out a small crystal that was dark from inside it. Still following the hum, he walked further into the storage room, where another device was in pieces. A crystal like the one he had pulled out, but still bright, was sitting there, so John pushed it into the slot and closed the panel back up.

The small screen on the second device lit up and data started scrolling across the screen—not that he could read any of it. It was in a weird alien language.

He handed it to O'Neill. "I think Doctor Jackson will want this."

"What? How?" O'Neill blinked up at him. "It was broken."

"It just needed a new part." John shook his head. "It's a... I guess the closest I can come is like a USB drive, with a small amount of data stored on it. I got the impression it wasn't a huge database, but a backup of something someone wanted to make sure didn't get lost at some point."

"A USB drive." O'Neill sounded disbelieving.

"Not exactly, but that's the closest I can get to a description that makes any sense." John shook his head, trying to clear the hum that was starting to get louder again. He finally gave up and started heading in the direction it seemed to want him to go. Apparently his ancestors made really pushy technology.

"What—where are you going?"

John ignored him again, until he found, at the back of the room, whatever it was that was clamoring for his attention. He picked it up. It looked, at first glance, like a plain rectangular box with no real features to speak of.

"Sheppard, what are you doing?"

"It wanted me." John turned it over in his hand, trying to figure out what the vague hum was trying to tell him. His fingers finally found the right spot—that didn't look any different from the rest of the device—and it came to life.

O'Neill took a step back. "What the hell?"

Information was being projected up, like a hologram. Pictures of places with descriptions and information John couldn't read, scrolled by. He realized he could stop it, start it, or go to specific spots with just a thought. Most of them looked like places he could find on Earth, although he knew, without really understanding how he knew, that none of them were on this planet, much less in this galaxy. And one word kept repeating—Atlantis.

There was the sound of rushing feet and then Rodney was there. John hadn't looked up but he knew, he could feel it. Rodney and O'Neill were both like bright lights in his mind, but Rodney blazed.

"John, I though you knew better not to touch anything yet!"

"There's some stuff here that you should look at. It says you'll be able to make it work again," he couldn't take his eyes off the places he was being shown. "They're all…they're in my head, and they're all trying to get my attention, to show me what they can do. They all want me to make them work again, Rodney." The hum was keeping his panic down, but it couldn't eradicate it completely. And it was starting to get louder and something else tried to get his attention.

Rodney reached out and John felt him put a hand on his arm. "John, put it down."

He handed it over easily, but as soon as it was out of his hands, the hum tried to get him to pick something else up. Like it was content as long as he was working with something, but as soon as he let it go, it wanted to show him something else. "Like a child who wants to show a parent a new toy. It all just wants to... show me."

"That's great, but we can't do it all now." Rodney's voice was oddly calm and level.

"It's waited so long. It feels... lonely."

"And we'll have plenty of time to work with it come Monday," Rodney said, easing John out of the room.

As soon as the door was closed, the hum was cut off, and John found himself sinking to his knees, head in his hands.

Rodney was with him, easing him down, holding him steady. "John, come on. I’m here. Don't do this to me."

He took a deep breath, and looked up. "I'm here. It was just... I've never felt anything like that. And it was... it felt like this was only the tip of it. There was this overall... feeling. Like it was calling me somewhere. Far away. It's lonely, but it doesn't have the reach to do more than... it's like a feather across your skin, when it really wants to take you in a huge bear hug and squeeze you until you think your eyes will pop out."

"I know, John. I could feel it too, but not nearly as strong as you because I wasn't touching it. We'll fix it, okay?"

"It didn't start until I touched the first device O'Neill handed me." He glanced up at the Colonel who was hovering over them. "Then it was like... a light switch was thrown, and they all started trying to get my attention. But it was... more like children trying to get the attention of their parent, and behind them, far away, I could feel... it was older, more mature, but so lonely. Like it's waiting for us to find it and it's just as anxious to show us all it can do."

"We'll figure it out, okay? I promise."

John nodded, and took a deep breath. "I don't think I should go back in that room, or in any room that has a lot of that stuff until we figure this out. Maybe if it's just one or two pieces, it won't be so... overwhelming."

Rodney nodded again, glancing over his shoulder toward the room. "I need someone to lock that room down to my personal code. I don't want anyone in there without my approval."

O'Neill looked grey. "That room is officially off-limits to anyone without your say-so starting right now. It will be coded within the hour. I don't want that happening again."

"And I want a list of anyone who can interface with the technology. I mean everyone. I don't care where they're stationed."

O'Neill nodded. "We already have a list, and it looks like I'm going to have to add both of you to it. We also have those people ranked according to how strong it seemed their gene was. I think Sheppard just broke the scale."

"I, thankfully, have some measure of self control. Unlike other people in this room." He glared at Sheppard for a brief moment. "I want that report first thing Monday morning."

"You'll have it in your inbox before then." O'Neill looked down at John again. "We will need to set up some kind of testing program. Most of these things are here because we didn't think they could do anything anymore. Sheppard just proved that wrong, and we need to know how much of that stuff is useful. But we also need to figure out a way to do it without having him... get lost again."

"And checking over alien technology is not his job. I will not have the commander of this facility waste his time doing something this science staff should have taken care of long before I got here. I want personnel files on everyone in this building on my desk first thing Monday." He helped John climb to his feet. "We're going to borrow some of the burly Marines to move us into the house."

"I figured as much with the house. And while I don't want him wasting his time with junk, if he can make the tech work, then part of his job is giving you part of his day to play light switch."

"No, it's not," Rodney repeated, his eyes narrowed at O'Neill. "That's what the scientists do."

"And if you can't turn shit on, you can't study it." O'Neill shrugged. "We've found, with the stuff we could get working, that once it's initialized, anyone with the gene, no matter how weak, can use a piece of technology. So if you can have your people narrow it down to the most likely candidates, then you can just have him try to turn them on for you to go play with."

"We'll see. Right now, that's not part of his job description."

"You do realize that he works for me, so I'm the one who decides what's in his job description, right?"

John looked up. "Could you both stop talking about me as if I'm not here? Rodney, if you can just pull out one or two at a time, I don't mind trying to turn them on. It's not hard, there were just too many of them trying to get my attention at the same time."

Rodney pointedly ignored him, instead deciding to star down O'Neill. "Are you already telling me how to run my department?"

O'Neill sighed. "No, I'm just pointing out that he's an asset you can't afford to discount. Up until now, I've been the one with the strongest gene, and I've never had anything like what just happened occur. Which means Sheppard is off the charts, and is going to be our best bet for making ninety percent of the Ancient stuff we've managed to recover work. Or at least start to work."

"I know how to do my job, Colonel. I suggest you let me do it."

O'Neill rolled his eyes, and finally looked at John. "I think you've had about as much excitement for your first unofficial day as I can stand. You'll be on a plane in two days for Colorado for reinstatement into the Air Force and a crash course in the SGC, after which you'll assume command of this base."

"That's Sunday. You expect him to work the weekend? We won't be finished moving by then."

"He'll be on a plane Sunday because he'll need to be there for the ceremony and meetings on Monday. And you won't still be moving. My, ah, burly Marines, will have you moved by the end of the day."

"But still…working the weekend? And here I thought you were a decent boss." Rodney huffed. "Come on, John. We have things to do."

John glanced back as Rodney started pulling him away. "Thanks, sir. See you on Monday!"

"Don't thank him," Rodney hissed, tugging him along. "He's not helping you. He's the one who screwed with your brain with the alien technology and I'll make sure to give him a piece of my mind as soon as I know exactly what I need to complain about."

"I don't think it wanted to screw with my brain. I think it just wanted someone to pay attention to it again."

"It doesn't matter. It shouldn't have happened in the first place if there were proper safeguards in place."

"Maybe." John shrugged. "I don't think anyone thought anything like that would happen. I get the feeling they don't know nearly as much about this stuff as they need to. That's why they're so desperate to have you."

Rodney shook his head, ignoring the guard outside their wing as he waited for John to dig out his card key and slide it through the reader. He was moving a few beats later even before the doors were completely open. "It doesn't matter. It was sloppy. That means this entire staff might have to be replaced."

"Or retrained."

Rodney frowned. "You can't teach an old dog…and all that jazz," he said, waving his hand.

"They're not dogs, they are, supposedly, some of the smartest people on the planet. If they can't learn, they don't deserve to be here. I'm sure there will be some in that category, but I have to believe the rest will be salvageable."

"We'll see. Radek said they might be closer to monkeys than humans. I'm not optimistic." They rounded the corner to find Nathalie in the hall, her arms full of papers. "We're moving to the house now. Start packing."

She blinked. "Right now?"

"No, tomorrow. Of course now!"

"But I just got everything organized here!"

"So organize it there. It'll give you something to do." Rodney moved past her, totally ignoring her stunned expression.

John was right behind him. "We should probably decide where we want to tell them to put stuff, or it will all just end up in boxes in the middle of the dining room."

"I'll just go over there and direct them once we pack."

"Right. Well, don't yell at me when you can't find shit then."

Rodney moved into their private area, bee-lining for the bedroom. "Where are the suitcases?"

"I have no idea. If I had to guess, the closets."

"Well," Rodney waved his hand at John as he started throwing clothes on the bed from the dresser.

A moment later, a suitcase appeared on the bed. "That's all that's in there. The Marines will pack too, you know."

"What do you mean that's all there's in there? We have a lot of clothes. We need more than one suitcase."

"That's what cardboard boxes are for."

"Clothes go in suitcases."

"For traveling, yes. For moving, they go in whatever is handy."

"Yes. A suitcase."

"Or a box, or a bin, or pretty much anything that will hold stuff."

"No. A suitcase is for clothes."

John sighed. "Right. I'll ask someone to find you more suitcases."

"Good plan," Rodney said as he turned back to the dressers and more clothes started flying toward the bed.

He had a sizeable pile when a bunch of men in BDUs showed up—with suitcases—and started packing them all away. They were even folding them first. Others arrived with boxes and started packing up everything else.

Rodney was in his element. Directing people—mostly through yelling at them and calling them idiots—to do what he wanted. If he thought it was possible, John would have just stood back and watched, but Rodney put him to work, too. So much for sleeping with the man. Apparently every available person just became Rodney's pack mule.

Given all the extra help, it didn't take them long to pack everything up. And a team was already there to help them unpack it all again when they headed over to the house, where Rodney once more became the Grand Master. By the time everything was in place—a record move by any estimation—John was absolutely exhausted.

Rodney though was nearly vibrating—thanks to copious amounts of coffee, sugar, and some perverse pleasure at insulting really big Marines.

John found a quiet place to sit (more like collapse) for a bit, but it wasn't long before Rodney found his hidey hole.

"What are you doing sitting around? You should be unpacking. Chop, chop." Rodney snapped his fingers at John.

John cracked an eye open. "It's all unpacked already."

"That mess you left in the bedroom and office is not unpacked." Rodney was glaring down at him with the stink eye.

"Ah. That. It can wait until tomorrow. Why don't we go to bed?"

"Bed? Why?"

"Because I'm ready to pass out?"

"Oh, really? Why? It's still early," Rodney said, stepping closer to squint down at him and then at his watch. "It's only a little past midnight."

John moaned. "Sleeeeeeeep. If you want me at all functional tomorrow, I need sleep. Not all of us have been mainlining coffee half the night."

"I haven't been," Rodney said defensively. "I only had a few…three or so cups."

"Three or so pots," John corrected. He stood up, and winced as his body reminded him that he wasn't a twenty-year-old kid anymore.

"But there's so much more work to do."

"It can wait, Rodney." John shook his head. "As it is, I'm going to have to pop a lot of pain pills to get me moving freely when I get up. I think this means I need to work out more."

"But you work out all the time," Rodney whined.

"And I'm exhausted and achy from moving boxes all day."

Rodney sighed loudly.

John slipped his hand into Rodney's and started tugging him toward their bedroom. "You're tired, too, you just aren't feeling it yet. I bet once you lay down, you'll be surprised at how fast you fall asleep."

"But there's still a lot of stuff to do," Rodney complained even as John tugged him upstairs to their master bedroom.

"And it will all still be here waiting for you in a few hours."

"It's it's there now."

"And you're here, going to bed with me." John firmly closed the door behind them. "Now strip and come shower with me so we can sleep."

"Do you actually think that whole…caveman routine works with me?"

"Going by the hard on you're currently sporting, and have been since I started, then yes, actually, I do."

Rodney blushed, his hands fluttering around. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Right." John grinned and reached out, pulling Rodney into his arms. "Let's go shower so we can go to bed and fall asleep in each other's arms."

"John," Rodney complained, even as he wrapped his arms around John. The man was trembling. How much coffee had he had today?

"I'm not asking you, Rodney." He wasn't above using his lover's slightly submissive tendencies in the bedroom against him sometimes.

"I don't want to go to bed," he whined.

"Good thing we're showering first then." John pressed a kiss to Rodney's lips, but pulled away before Rodney could deepen it. "Now strip while I go start the water."

"But there's boxes of stuff everywhere," Rodney grumbled, even as he pulled off his shirt.

"And they will still be there tomorrow for us to get back to."

"But we can finish up tonight if we put our minds to it." Rodney unbuttoned his pants and held onto the bathroom counter as he wiggled out of them, kicking them free of his feet once they hit the floor. John tested the water, waiting for it to warm up a bit more.

He stripped out of his own clothes. "No. We're going to shower and sleep, and finish up tomorrow."

"What, are you going to lock up all my clothes or something?" Rodney asked as his boxers hit the floor.

"No, I'm going to wash you down completely, possibly give you a blow job, definitely require you to give me one, then take you to bed."

"Just a blow job?" Rodney asked, head tilted to the side. His hands were still shaking thanks to the caffeine. It would be interesting to see what it would take to get him to come down from the high. Hell, tying him to the bed might be an option if it meant John could sleep.

"For now." He was finally happy with the water, so he took Rodney's hand and pulled him into the massive stall. "I really like your blow jobs."

"I wonder who they built this house for originally," Rodney said, his mind already wandering. "I know O'Neill said it was something they needed to build, but they had to have someone in mind. I wonder if it's for alien prisoners or something. I wonder if they can just lock down the house remotely if they wanted. Do you think we have enough food for a siege if they did that?"

"I'm pretty sure they built it for us, and if you refused to join, then they'd use it for other things. But considering how it's configured, I'm fairly certain it was with you in mind."

"I don't think so. This shower is nice, not as big as I like, but not bad. I wonder if some aliens are really big and they needed to be able to house them."

"I don't think they house aliens out in the open like this."

"No? But it's a secret, classified base. Oh." Rodney's eyes widened. "Do you think they keep them in that underground hanger thing? I wonder if we'll have to do anything with them. You know…socially. I don't know if I could look at naked aliens for a long time."

John laughed and pulled Rodney into his arms again. "For now, let's not worry about it, okay?"

"But it's something to think about, you know. We're involved with this whole crazy project which I'm still not sure is a good thing. And you feel really good like this…all wet and warm and naked…but the whole naked alien thing is a little disconcerting. I wonder if they have sex. I wonder what naked alien sex is like. I mean, do they have naked alien sex? Or is it that clone bodies are really too asexual for sex or anything even remotely like it? I mean, whoever thought that body was a good choice really needs to have their eyes checked. But I digress. The project is just weird and crazy and why did that stupid technology keep asking for Atlantis? That's a whole big myth thing."

John blinked, processing all of it, and deciding to go with the last part. "Remember I said it felt like there was something even more... lonely I guess, behind the stuff in the room, and that it felt like it was really far away, and just an echo of sorts? I... think that might be this Atlantis. I think it's where this stuff came from."

"Hmm. No. Why would it want something that doesn't exist. That makes absolutely no sense, but there's not a lot about this project that makes a lot of sense. And I still think I'm way smarter than that stupid little naked alien gave me credit for. I think they're just scared of competition, but I can tell you now that no little naked alien is going to get a Nobel Prize before I get another one. It wouldn't be far given that they're aliens and have all that so-called advanced technology."

John shrugged. "How do you know it doesn't exist? If it does, it's not on this planet, that's for sure. But maybe once we learn more about this project and you have a chance to study those gadgets, you'll have a better idea of where they came from."

"It's a myth. Of course it doesn't exist. Have you been talking to the anthropologists again? Didn't I tell you they were a bad influence? They're going to screw with your whole worldview."

"I haven't, but that's the name they were giving me, when they were all trying to get my attention. They wanted to go home, and the name they called it was Atlantis."

Rodney rubbed his nose into the side of John's neck, letting out a long exhale. He was still jittery and trembling, but some of the energy was slowly abating. "The naked alien thing was freaky. I don't like him and he was very insulting to me and my level of intelligence."

"If it makes you feel any better, he seems to have the same opinion of your scientists that you do. So maybe he just hasn't realized yet that you're on another level from them."

Rodney snorted. "I still think he should have showed me those equations. I think he was afraid."

"Maybe. But maybe once you earn his trust and respect for your abilities, he'll give them to you. But if you push him, he'll never budge."

"Earn his trust. I'm the smartest man on the planet."

"And he's not from this planet. I don't get the impression he's much impressed with us as a species. So you'll have to work past that before you can do anything else."

"No." John could hear the stubborn creeping back into Rodney's voice.

John sighed, and nibbled a bit on Rodney's neck. "Think of it as the biggest scientific challenge you've ever been given. There's no doubt you're smart enough to figure out how to crack the puzzle of getting the naked alien to respect you enough to share his equations. You could even keep a spreadsheet of data points of things that work and don't work."

"Hmmm….good point…keep doing that…but I might have to find ways to work around him. I wonder if I could hack into his bunker."

"You might want to wait until you've had a chance to learn his tech a bit more first. Somehow, I'm pretty sure getting caught hacking the alien would be a bad thing, so if you're going to do it, at least make sure you know enough about how his systems work to ensure you don't leave behind any evidence of being there."

"Eh, he wouldn't even notice. I can hack into most governments."

"Yes, but you know what sort of security to watch for and go around. Just promise me you'll at least wait a few weeks to get to know how his tech works and how it's different from ours before you go hacking him. Please?"

"Hmm…maybe," Rodney said, rubbing up against John, his hands starting to explore a little more thoroughly. "You wouldn't believe the things people keep on governmental computers. You'd think they knew better."

"So this is going to be like a field day for you. Instead of getting mad at what they won't allow you access to at first, spend your energy learning how their security is set up and figuring out ways around it. Not that I'm condoning hacking, you know. Just pointing out that it would be much less antagonistic that way."

"Maybe. Depends on the staff. They might be plants for someone else."

"True. So just... be careful, okay? Don't rush in, but take the time to learn what's alien and how it works before you try to go futzing around with it."

Rodney huffed again. "Careful is no fun and I think you should fuck me before we go to bed since you're obviously not going to let me out of this room again tonight."

John hummed. "I think you should get on your knees first and show me how much you love my cock. But if you make me come, you don't get fucked."

Rodney pulled back, a smirk on his face. "A challenge is it? You know what happened the last time you tried to beat me at something."

"We had amazing, mind-blowing sex?"

"And you were begging for it. You could barely hold yourself back."

"I don't think you can get me there again. It was a fluke."

Rodney chuckled, deep and dirty. "Right. You were so turned on you could barely stop yourself from coming all over yourself."

John grinned and leaned back against the wall. "I dare you to try it again."

"No," Rodney said, his mouth twisting up in a half smile. "I want to get fucked and if I blow you the way you want, that won't happen."

"Well then, I guess you're going to have to find a happy medium. Because I'm not fucking you until you get me ready with your mouth."

"Is that so?" It was kind of weird to be fighting over sex, but it was also fun to rile Rodney up like this. He was naked, wet and had his hands on his hips—and a very interested and hard cock.

John struck a pose he knew never failed to make Rodney go a little crazy, with his hips thrusting out a bit. He threw in a sexy smirk for good measure. "You know you want me inside you, and I want your mouth. So get me ready for you. Get me hard and leaking, and then we're going into the bedroom where I'm going to watch you use a dildo to get yourself ready for me. Then, when I decide you're ready, I'm going to fuck you so hard and fast, you'll be able to taste it until next week."

Rodney moaned and his eyes dilated at John's words. He licked his lips, his eyes traveling up and down John's body.

John just stayed where he was, letting the water cascade down his body, knowing Rodney wasn't going to be able to help himself.

The other man stood there for a long time, just staring. He finally took a step forward, getting closer once again, his hand sliding along John's side. He licked his lips again, but remained standing.

"Something wrong?"

"Not wrong, per say," Rodney said quietly, eyes fixed somewhere between John's collarbone and jaw. "I'm just not sure how…resolute you are in your…demands."

"That depends. Can you make me a better offer?"

"I don't know, but the dildo is certainly new."

"I was thinking of how seriously hot it would be to watch you fuck yourself with one while I watched."

"Hmm, yes, but I wonder what it would feel like if it was in my ass when I blew you." Rodney licked his lips again, looking oddly hungry and John might be his midnight snack.

John's breath caught in his throat, and his cock jumped between them. "God, I love the way your mind works."

"Mmmm," Rodney hummed, licking his lips again. He shifted on his feet, moving closer.

John reached over and shut off the water. "We need to be in the bedroom. Now."

"Why?" Rodney dragged his eyes up to meet John's. They were blown wide and mostly pupil with a small ring of blue around the edge. "Here is good."

"Because the dildos are in there."

"But we're in here."

"Which means we need to be in there."

Rodney scratched his fingernails along John's side. "But here was nice with the water."

John arched a little, moaning softly. "Then I guess you should go get a dildo and bring it in here."

Rodney licked his lips again, his eyes finding a spot on John' neck to focus on as his fingers continued to move, scrapping lightly along the skin of John's side.

John's head dropped to the side, giving Rodney more access. His ability to focus was going rapidly out the window as his breath hitched.

"What do you want, John? Thought you had a plan," Rodney said, his voice rough and deep. They were only connected in the barest of ways—the touch of Rodney's fingertips and his gaze on his neck—but it was like they were plastered together.

"You... you're derailing my ability to plan."

"Me?"

"God, you're so fucking hot." John leaned in to capture Rodney's mouth in a searing kiss, needing to show his lover just how turned on he was.

Rodney gave as good as he got, growling a little into the kiss. Apparently the caffeine high was not a bad thing—in this case at least.

By the time they broke apart, John was so hard he was leaking.

"What do you want?" Rodney asked, panting a little.

"I already told you what I wanted. You're the one trying to derail me."

"Why would I do that?" Rodney licked his kiss-swollen lips and John had to hold himself back from simply diving in again.

With a moan, John leaned his head back against the shower wall and closed his eyes, trying to find his self-control again. "Because you like driving me crazy?"

Rodney's thumb slid back and forth over John's left hip bone. "Mmm…" John felt Rodney shuddered a little and then the he groaned. "Want you…"

"Bed. We need the bed now."

Rodney didn't argue, didn't comment, but his thumb just kept sliding back and forth along John's skin.

John shivered, but opened his eyes and pushed up from the wall. "Now. Bed."

Rodney's eyes were closed and he was biting his bottom lip, his attention seemed to be focused on the slow swipe of his finger.

John gently took his lover's hand and tugged him out of the shower and into the bedroom. He pushed Rodney onto the bed, and turned to find the lube.

By the time he turned back to the bed—after fighting through the stuffed drawer in the bedside table—Rodney was poised, ass in the air, waiting for him.

Christ. John had to take a few deep breaths. God, Rodney was sexy. Lubing up quickly, John decided to just push in, slowly so he didn't hurt his lover, but he wanted Rodney to feel the burn, to know John was inside him, owned him.

Rodney groaned deep and low, fingers curling into the bed. He shifted slightly, widening his knees.

John pushed in slowly, waiting at intervals to allow Rodney's body to stretch and open for him. By the time he was fully seated, John was trembling with the need to just take and claim.

Rodney was panting loudly now, his entire body shaking—but this time from arousal and not just from the damn caffeine. John shifted him a few times, forcing him back into the position he wanted if Rodney moved. This was happening his way.

"Fist your hands in the sheets," John panted. "And keep yourself right here, like this, while I fuck you. If you can hold off, don't come until I do."

Rodney made this weird sound—part growl, part moan, part groan, and part desperate want. He shifted again—as much as he could with John's cock deep in his ass.

John gave the ass in front of him a light smack. "I said stay still."

Rodney shuddered hard. "Please…" he managed to get out.

John pulled out almost as slow as he went in, wanting to savor the way Rodney's tight ass felt around his cock.

He ignored the noises and sounds Rodney was making, not wanting the other man to push him faster until he was ready. Rodney was the one who wanted this and he was going to take it just like this.

John fucked him slowly, savoring it, all of it. He wanted to make this last as long as possible.

Rodney's ass was hot and tight and perfect to fuck. Some days John swore he couldn't get enough of it. And then there were the days when Rodney was a complete and utter asshole. John vaguely wondered if fucking him into the mattress on those days would make any bit of difference.

He filed that thought away to examine later, since it was getting harder and harder to hold back the orgasm hovering on the edges of his consciousness.

Rodney let out a wordless cry and John could feel him coming, clenching down on his cock even as he stripped the bed and his chest with come. As soon as Rodney's orgasm passed John could feel him loosening up completely.

That was all it took. He came, hard, practically screaming Rodney's name as it ripped through him.

He collapsed on top of the other man, sending them both flat onto the bed, panting and sated. Rodney groaned but didn't shove John away, still boneless under him.

John panted for a while, catching his breath. When he had control of his limbs again, he rolled off Rodney's back so he didn't crush him completely.

Staring up at the ceiling he panted, the air making him shiver as it blew across his sweat-covered body.

"Mmmmmm."

Rodney was still breathing heavily beside him, letting out a quiet moan every few breaths.

John felt a self-satisfied grin curl his lips, even as a yawn broke through. He managed to push himself up and pad into the bathroom, where he cleaned up, then brought a washcloth out to do the same for Rodney.

Rodney hadn't moved an inch, still collapsed right on top of the wet spot he'd made. He didn't offer any resistance to John as he cleaned him up. When John rolled him over, Rodney's eyes slit open and he looked at John, but John wasn't really sure how much Rodney was really tracking.

Well, he had wanted to put his lover to sleep. So he counted this as a success. He managed to pull the sheets off the bed and tossed them in the corner before crawling in next to Rodney and pulling the bedspread—which had avoided any carnage—over both of them. Yeah, this had been a good day.

John drifted off the sleep, feeling, for the first time in a long time, that everything was working out exactly the way it was supposed to. He had a man he loved, a career he thought he had lost back, and a whole new world—or galaxy in this case—to explore. Yeah, if this had been a good day. It was going to be a fucking awesome future.

 

***

 

End


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